Kicking The Bucket List
by jellydonut16
Summary: AU Fed up with life and never being good enough, Lovino makes a Kicking the Bucket List, in which he'll kill himself when it's done. But can a certain Spaniard sweep him off his feet before a noose does? Spamano with initial!Scotmano (ScotlandxRomano)
1. one

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

**_Kicking the Bucket List_**

**one**

**"_I__'__m a candle you__'__d extinguish when you found the sun._"**

**— z.n, ten word story**

Lovino Vargas never really saw himself as the type of person to be depressed. And it's not that he cut himself or that he wanted to die or anything… It's just that he didn't see any reason in living anymore.

Other people, they usually have this sort of reason for their existence. A beacon of light in the dark that consumed their beings, a thread of hope. No matter all the bullshit life threw in their faces, still, they pushed forward. They found the strength to carry on. And, with that, they make it through the day.

In all honesty, Lovino wasn't one of them, no.

He calls it like he sees it, and more often than not, his view on life is… cold. Bleak.

But, in his opinion, very, very real. It wasn't his fault that he didn't shy away from the truth.

Yet somehow, he felt like he was being ungrateful in a way by feeling like this. By most people's standards, he had nothing to complain about. He just graduated with honours he worked his ass off for to get, he's going to his first choice college, and his grandfather had gotten him and his brother a penthouse a five minutes' walk away from campus.

Like, what _else _could he possibly want?

All is good… _Life _is good. Right?

Wrong.

For the Italian, he felt as if he were okay, yet somehow _not _okay. He couldn't even begin to describe what the actual _fuck _he was feeling, and truth be told, all this quasi-okayishness was beginning to fuck with his head.

It was that point of life where he was wondering, '_Why the fuck do I even exist?_'

* * *

…Alright.

So _perhaps _there was a reason for his existence. It was more like a purpose he was born to do, as opposed to some self-actualised discovery of one's source of joy.

Feliciano is Lovino's younger brother by a whopping twenty minutes.

Yes, they're twins.

And don't even fucking say that those twenty minutes couldn't _possibly _make a fucking difference, because it did, it does, and it _always will_.

So shut up, dammit.

He liked to think of them as polar opposites. Lovino was, admittedly, an asshole with a vengeance and an obsession with anything and _everything _by Mario Puzo (Author of _The Godfather_? _The Last Don_? _Anyone_?! _Dio mio_, this guy's a _god_.) and… tomatoes.

_..Shut up. I know what you__'__re thinking, dickhead, and you better keep your damn thoughts to yourself before I__— _Dio mio_, I don__'__t even know__— __throttle you, dammit!_

Ahem.

…Whereas Feliciano was the happy-go-lucky idiot who was, like, a fucking art prodigy obsessed with, uh, pasta. Definitely not starving artist material, no.

Don't even try to judge Feliciano for obsessing about pasta, either. Italian food is fucking _orgasmic_. It automatically PWNs all those other cuisines, so your argument is invalid.

_A-Anyway, getting kinda off topic here, dammit__… _Let it just be said that Feliciano was the _better _twin. The nicer, better-looking twin, who had his future laid out for him as a great artist. Hell, he even graduated as fucking _valedictorian_. How the fuck that happened, Lovino would never know.

What he _does _know is that his _fratello__'__s _valedictory speech was in Italian. It was a 10-minute long speech about fucking _pasta_. Lovino remembers he was just sitting there, trying not to shit himself laughing because _all _of the faculty members were fucking moved to _tears _with Feliciano's speech.

No, it couldn't be about how all of them had grown up and were now, hell, 'taking flight' to different colleges and universities. About all of the bullshit the seniors went through in order to complete all of their requirements, and how the memories they've shared together would always remain with him 'til he took his last breath. No, it had to be about _pasta_.

_Fucking pasta._

"Ve~ Pasta has always played an important role in my life. Whenever I felt like being lazy— which is often, tee-hee— my older brother Lovino would always give me the strength to carry on by threatening to stop cooking me pasta~! Even though I can cook my own pasta myself anyway, his pasta tastes out of this world! It tastes amazing, and I hope you all could try it sometime, but he complains enough while making pasta for me, so I don't think that'd be a good idea~ Thank you, Lovi! For the pasta! I love you! Please continue cooking pasta for me in college! _Please_!"

…At least he got a shout-out during that speech. E-Even though there was that fucking 'complaining' bit, it was the truth. No one else understood the speech anyway.

And after all he's done for Feliciano, he was kind of… happy to actually be acknowledged by his _fratellino_ somehow. He was definitely not moved to tears for that bit, _hell _no— he was just— just t-tearing up from laughing so hard, d-dammit…

Anyways, being Feliciano's 'pasta-maker' was just _one _of the many, _many _roles Lovino had to take.

He was Feliciano's bodyguard for one.

Ever since he and Feliciano were in kindergarten, these rotten little brats would always try picking on the latter by bullying him.

AKA by stealing his crayons.

Bitch, nobody steals Feliciano Vargas' crayons without _Paying The Ultimate Price_.

If Feli's crayons were taken by some dipshit, then Lovino would come in to the rescue. He would pummel his fists into those ugly— _Dio mio_, so fucking ugly— fat faces and steal those crayons _right _back.

E-Even _if _doing so landed Lovino in the time-out corner.

Feliciano was fragile. He was not.

He could take it, so he did. Even as a kid, he felt like he d-deserved it anyway… he was a pretty rude little shit back then. And he often found himself that maybe, this was the price he had to pay.

For not being good enough.

Over time, it got worse. The beatings became more frequent, and he was ganged up on a lot. He always told Feliciano not to tell anyone though— _especially _not _Nonno_— because he didn't want to hear his own grandfather scolding him about how he should be more… _sweet_, like Feliciano. How he probably had it coming to him with how rude he was.

Even as a child, Lovino didn't want to be reminded how he was never good enough.

Like, he was fully aware ofit already. Any other reminder of the fact would be like rubbing his insecurities and shortcomings right in his face.

And he had too many of those to count.

One day, though, in middle school, one of the beatings he got was so bad, it landed him in the hospital because he had a swollen jaw, a busted lip, a black eye and a few broken ribs.

The grown-ups didn't know it was the work of a bunch of beady-eyed twelve year-olds who got their kicks out of making others feel as shitty as they actually were. Lovino said he fell off a tree he was climbing, and no one questioned him twice for it. He had a knack for being clumsy anyway.

Plus, he had a hunch they wouldn't understand, let alone _try _to. All they'd do is cross their arms over their chests, look at him with disappointment, and blame it on him not being good enough and how he brought it all on himself.

Once the brief wave of concern had washed away, _Nonno _was pissed at him for getting himself _this _beat up by falling off a fucking _tree_.

Then Feliciano told _Nonno_ the truth. _Feli, you little snitch, _Lovino remembered himself thinking as _Nonno _abruptly stormed out of the hospital room, pulling the younger twin with him.

He assumed that it was safe to say that _Nonno _rained hellfire upon the school the next morning. He wasn't there to see the glorious moment for himself, but his tormentors had gotten suspended.

It was one of the best days of his life.

Albeit the absence of the bullies in school, _Nonno _immediately moved them out of that hellhole and to another one. A private academy in their hometown of Verona back in Italy.

* * *

Years passed. Lovino not only had the role of being Feliciano's bodyguard, he had gotten partial responsibility of _Nonno__'__s _role of caretaker, too.

Ever since they moved to Verona, _Nonno _had become increasingly busy, often going on business trips that left an awkwardly maturing 13-year old Lovino in charge of the house _and _his brother.

He was the eldest, after all.

And, voluntarily or not, he had assumed the role of being the p-protector of Feliciano's… goddammit— _virginity_.

See, when you go through, uh, puberty, you start to feel things you think is the work of _amore_, but it _isn__'__t amore_, it's an infatuation. And once that thing shatters the fuck out of your pre-pubescent heart, you tend to feel like it's the end of the world. Only worse.

Boo-hoo.

But as long as _Lovino _was around, no one would ever dare lay a hand on his _fratello__'__s _heart, and thus, automatically, his _fratello__'__s _virginity. I-It's not that he _cared _or anything, he just didn't want Feliciano to deal with all the heartache and come crying to him for _Dio _knows how long.

Yet still, that didn't prevent Feliciano from making friends, of course.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Feliciano began to… branch out. He started making friends— a _lot _of them, actually.

He began to go to parties, hang out with his friends after class, and he began to do his own thing.

He became more independent.

It was around that time that struck this hidden fear inside of Lovino, that Feliciano wouldn't need him anymore. And another fear, much, much worse…

The fear of being alone.

* * *

When it was time for them to go to high school, _Nonno_ had taken them out of their current school and moved them back to the place where they grew up; America. It was out-of-the-blue; unexpected.

Lovino didn't know if it was a good change.

But it was the first time in a long while he felt like he was good enough, like he was wanted. Everyone wanted to hang out with the 'new kids', especially because they were hot and Italian.

He relished in the feeling, and he loved how the girls showered him with attention whenever he spoke in Italian.

But it didn't… It didn't last that long.

Feliciano began to have more and more friends. He became popular in school, while Lovino was just… derping in the shadows, like a shady and angsty motherfucker. No matter how hard he tried to be good enough, he always fell short of perfection. People preferred his _fratello _over him. They always did.

Always will.

* * *

It was at that time, sophomore year, when he discovered his talent in writing.

He oft immersed himself in movies and books, so whenever he was bored, he would write down little ideas and excerpts that popped in his head during class, and pore over them later when he got home from school. He had… no one to pass notes with, anyway.

But still, his mind was swimming in his thoughts. Continually, they slowly began to suffocate him.

He couldn't stop focusing on every single mistake he had ever made, breaking it down into smaller parts, and discerning what could've been if he'd said _this_, or if he'd done _that_. All that overthinking made his head spin.

One morning, though, he had this— this line in his head that bugged him all morning and he couldn't shake it off, so he decided to write it down on a piece of notebook paper.

**_They say __'__you only gave as good as you got__'_**

**_I gave my all_**

**_but it was still not enough_**

He blinked once, twice, hazel eyes rereading the note in his sun-kissed hands. He let the words sink in as he reflected on it.

His grip on the piece of paper tightened.

The bell went off, so he stood up, shoved the note in the bottom of his backpack, and slung it over his shoulder while walking out of the classroom.

* * *

That was the same note Lovino found himself rereading at the moment.

He was in the midst of fixing his backpack for classes tomorrow when he came across the crumpled piece of paper.

It sent his mind whirring into overdrive, when he realised something he'd been denying all along.

One day, Feliciano will _inevitably _grow up.

One day, he won't need Lovino anymore.

One day, he will be able to stand on his own two feet and forsake the brother that has only ever been there for him in the first place.

One day, Lovino would be forgotten, his reason, his _purpose _for existing diminishing along with it.

And where the fuck would that leave him? What would he do with himself now?

What of all the things he'd ever done for Feliciano?

He's built Feliciano up, only for he himself to be the one crumbling down. He'd put Feliciano before him too much, too often, he had lost sight of himself and who he was in the first place.

_What do I stand for? Who am I in the first place? _Dio_, what do I even _want_?_

Was he just a blank slate?

A stepping stone?

A scapegoat?

He felt conflicted.

Slowly, he set the note back down on his desk.

_What__'__ll happen to me when Feliciano doesn__'__t need me anymore? _He thought to himself.

He wasn't really good at anything— well, nothing that'd make _Nonno _relatively proud of him, anyway.

Maybe that was why he was all alone in the penthouse he and Feliciano shared while the latter was out with his friends for dinner before college started. They— he and Lovino— breathed the same air, yes, and they lived in the same apartment, yes, and were going to the same college… yet even then, Lovino couldn't shake away the feeling that he and Feliciano were worlds away.

As if they lived in two different realities.

Same book, yes, but not on the same page.

The Italian got up from his chair and flopped down onto the bed, a groan escaping his lips. He buried his head in the pillows for a few minutes, letting his thoughts take over, before he finally raised his head up and pulled the drawer built into his bedside table open. In it was a pad of paper, a couple of pens, a bunch of knickknacks he'd probably throw away at the end of the year.

He pulled the notepad and a pen out of the drawer before shutting it close. Lovino made himself more comfortable on the bed and rested his weight on his elbows, letting the words tauntingly dancing through his mind settle a bit so he could collect his thoughts and perceive what was to be written.

It was a bucket list. One that'd last four years— the entire duration he would be in college.

'_But why four years? Aren__'__t bucket lists for life?__'_

A small bitter smile crept upon the Italian's lips.

He wasn't living a life.

He was merely existing.

It was a pathetic ghost of all that he could've been capable of, all he could've achieved, but in the end, all his efforts had been in vain. By the time they graduated, Feliciano would be launched into a world full of opportunities that awaited him. He was an artist on the rise of glory and fame. It was only a matter of time before he reached that zenith.

Feliciano wouldn't need him anymore, thus rendering Lovino's existence o-_obsolete_.

The older twin, always forgotten, _always _hidden in the shadows, would no longer serve a fucking _purpose_.

_So why not embrace the dark when it__'__s all I__'__ve ever known?_

He brought his pen to the paper's surface. He began to write.

**[_] Watch a Broadway play— Chicago preferred— with front-row seats.**

**[_] Watch a FIFA football game.**

**[_] Go to the beaches in California for spring break.**

**[_] Write a screenplay.**

**[_] Try smoking weed (YOLO?)**

**[_] Visit Verona again.**

**[_] Cruise around the streets of Paris in a limousine while drinking champagne like a classy ass motherfucker.**

**[_] Trigger a Jäger-train.**

**[_] Discover inner muse at the Louvre.**

**[_] Try absinthe in Amsterdam (fuck yeah, YOLO)**

**[_] Change someone's life.**

**[_] …Make Nonno PROUD of me for ONCE.**

The thing is, this _wasn__'__t _just a bucket list, no. Because by the time he's finished all of the things on his list, Feliciano probably wouldn't need him anymore. The bucket list would give him some sort of incentive to go on with life, but when Feliciano is finally independent, he will have finally fulfilled his purpose, as well as accomplished everything he ever wanted to do.

_Why bother staying alive when there__'__s nothing to live for? I might as well just _die_, right?_

Lovino wrote the following words at the top of the page: KICKING THE BUCKET LIST.

With that, he pulled away a fraction and inspected each and every item on the list.

_What else do I want to do?_

The corner of his lips twitched upwards into a smirk.

It's something he's been wanting to do for quite a while now. Going about the task would prove to be difficult and quite possibly life-threatening, but it was a risk he'd be willing to take since the outcome would be well worth the sacrifice.

**[_] Trim that stupid British eyebrow bastard's eyebrows.**

Satisfied with this, he set his pen down.

The list— though subject to change— for now, was complete.

* * *

**Translations:**

_Dio mio - _Oh, my God (It.)

_fratello _\- brother (It.)

_fratellino _\- younger brother (It.)

_nonno _\- grandfather (It.)

_amore _\- love (It.)

_Dio _\- God (It.)

**~jellydonut16~**


	2. two

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_**Kicking the Bucket List**_

**two**

"_**Eyes like a car crash,**_

_**I know I shouldn**__**'**__**t look**_

_**but I can**__**'**__**t turn away.**_**"**

— _**Deathbeds **_**by Bring Me The Horizon**

Ah, Evergreen Hollows University— a prestigious college with world-renowned education and a bustling international community. Settled in the outskirts of the city, albeit all of the modernisation that surrounds it, it still retains its natural charm. The campus itself is partially enshrouded in the wood after which it was named.

The most popular spot for students to often frolic in was the hollow itself. It was a steep path down off the horse-trodden course (EHU also has an award-winning equestrian team). The students, often seniors who had yet to complete their thesis in order to graduate, tended to frequent the hollow around the end of the academic year.

It is said to be a popular spot for disgruntled to-be graduates to throw themselves in the literal pit of despair when they finally realised they could not keep up with all the requirements, and were bound to repeat another year. It was said that once they went in the wood during that specific time of year, they were never seen alive again.

Others said that in the wood— the hollow, specifically, lurked numerous monstrous atrocities of folklore— or Creepypasta; whichever you prefer. Many freshmen are oft coerced (forced) into trekking in the forest in the dead of night, with naught but a single flashlight to illuminate their paths and paranoia-stricken hallucinations of Slenderman derping in the shadows _behind that tree_!

Why?

In order to be accepted into the various fraternities and sororities the university had of course. None were officialised by EHU, but ran rampant anyway.

Lovino… wasn't exactly sure that the fuck he was thinking when he applied for this school. Actually, yeah, he _did_— which may or may not be partly because of Feliciano— but that was besides the point.

He also thought that his college guide needed to lay the fuck off the Internet and conspiracy theories.

Maybe get a life— _Hah! Fucking ironic.__— _or quite possibly get laid.

_At least, _he thought to himself, _I got to enrol in the course I wanted._

He would be taking creative writing, webbed with Performing Arts. In the near future, he was to begin dabbling in screenplay writing that would undoubtedly rake in The Big Bucks. Y'know. Movie-worthy scripts, like anything by Nicholas Sparks or John Green. In his fourth year, he would become a playwright for his very own play, collaborating with those taking courses under Performing Arts, only with different roles. He would be working with the actors and actresses, the prop-makers, the stage hands, the directors, and everyone else essential in the making of a play and bringing it to life.

Truth be told, he was excited about it— but _only just a little_, dammit!

Feliciano's major, however, would be— surprise, surprise— art with specialisation in painting. It shouldn't be too hard for him. Feliciano's already had his work displayed in exhibits, after all. Even back in Italy.

…Talented little shit.

Now all of this was just a five-minute walk away from campus.

If _only _Feliciano would hurry up so they could, gee, perhaps maybe _leave_?

Lovino rapped his knuckles against Feliciano's bedroom door for the umpteenth time, feeling impatient and irritated. "Feli, hurry the fuck up already! It's the first day of fucking classes and I _don__'__t _wanna miss shit!"

"Ve~ Just a minute!" Feliciano jovially sung out from the other side of the door. "I'm almost done, _fratello_~!"

Several more seconds of shuffling and fussing about later, the door had open to reveal a photo op-ready Feliciano, who was practically bouncing out of the room in excitement. "Let's go, _fratello_! Don't want to be late now, don't we? We're finally in college! I'm so excited! I can't wait to make new friends in the art department and—"

"_Dio mio_," Lovino quickly interjected, massaging the bridge of his nose. "Shut up, Feliciano. I don't want a migraine on the first day of class, dammit!"

Feli pouted at him. "Ve~ I hope you make friends Lovi…" His voice was laced with concern, as if it were something important enough to be concerned about.

The older twin snorted, shaking his head at the thought. "Yeah, yeah; whatever."

With that, the twins made their way out of their apartment building and walked to school.

* * *

Lovino's first class of the day was math.

There were many things he sucked at, and algebra was one of them (_fuck_ _algebra_).

However, his class starts at nine-forty. Thus, he had an hour or so to kill. Feliciano immediately surrounded himself with his friends from high school who were taking different courses. Lovino, merely fulfilling his purpose, kinda just fucking _loomed _behind Feliciano. His _fratello__'__s _shitty friends didn't acknowledge him.

_Actually, fuck this shit. I need caffeine. _He suddenly decided, abruptly turning around and stalking off to the general direction of the Starbucks the twins had passed earlier. As if on cue, Feliciano, at that moment, decided to pull Lovi in the conversation so he wouldn't be so alone.

"Ve~ Tell them about your course, Lovi…" he trailed off, watching his _fratello _storm off. For a split second, his mouth curved down into an uncharacteristic frown before he managed to put on a smile again.

Just as he was about to apologise for his brother just… walking away, he was— "Oi, Feli! Over here!" —interrupted.

He turned around to face the source of the noise and beamed. "Hi Gilbert!"

Feliciano excused himself from his group of friends and skipped over to the sophomore he hadn't seen nearly all year. Immediately, he gave the self-proclaimed Prussian a hug. "Ve~ I haven't seen you in _ages_! I'm so glad to see you!"

The Prussian hugged back with just as much vigour as the two swayed from side to side. "Kesese~ I missed you too, Feli-cakes!" He pulled away a fraction, a look of mock surprise and astonishment on his face. "What's this? I hugged you, yet there's no protective older brother to assault me?! _Mein Gott_, this is awesome!"

The Italian sighed, "He walked off somewhere just a minute ago. I hope he's alri—"

"_Mon Dieu_, it that you, Feliciano?"

Feliciano turned to Big Brother Francis, hugging him ebulliently. He hadn't seen him nearly all year either! _Ve~ This is great!_

Francis hugged him back, his hand inconspicuously drifting down towards some Italian Ass. Feliciano picked up on it, so he pulled away from the hug, the Frenchman's hand dropping back down to his side with it.

If Lovi saw him hugging Francis and Gilbert, he'd be having a fit!

He didn't understand why Lovi hated them so much. They're pretty nice…

A voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Feliciano, we'd like you to meet our friend Antoine," Francis said, pushing a man towards the smaller Italian. 'Antoine' had unruly brown hair, tan skin, and shining emerald eyes. A tinge of red had dusted 'Antoine's' sun-kissed cheeks.

"Ahaha~ _Hola_, Feliciano! Just call me Antonio or Toni." Antonio said, sheepishly grinning at the Italian. The latter smiled at him.

"Ve~ And, of course, I'm Feliciano! But you can call me Feli." The two shook hands for a second, though Antonio's hand lingered for a moment longer than it should have.

"_Si, si_! It's nice to meet you, Feli!" Toni chirped, his grin widening.

Feliciano pulled his hand away, "Nice to meet you too, Toni!"

Gilbert had wrapped his arm around Antonio's shoulder, putting his weight on the other. "Kesese~ Antonio here has been our friend for _years_! Thing is, the year he left for Spain was the year _you_ came in. But thank _Gott _he moved back here for freshman year in college! Franny and I thought we'd never be able to see him until we graduated!"

Antonio laughed along, his eyes twinkling. And not in that same menacing way Gilbert's ruby red eyes did, or in the knowing way Big Brother Francis' cerulean blue eyes did. He just looked so happy~!

…_Very_ happy~!

Feliciano knew that look. It was the same look many boys and girls had given him before Lovi put his _Virginity Guardian Armour_ on and just— h-_hovered_ there and glared at them until they left. If they were persistent, he would cut them down with his words.

I-It was _very _effective, ve~

_Oh, _fratello_…_

* * *

Meanwhile, Lovino had stepped into Starbucks, the fragrant aroma of coffee wafting through the air. He got in the relatively short queue, eyes scanning the menu overhead even though he had his order in mind already. Just as the guy in front of him turned around after getting his coffee, hazel eyes met forest green ones.

The Italian's throat constricted and he suddenly found it hard to breathe.

Almost immediately, he felt his cheeks warm as the stranger gave him an amiable smile, the tilt of his head sending tousled, vibrant red— _Dio mio_, such a beautiful shade of _rosso_— locks over his forehead.

"Good mornin'," he said, the timbre of his voice sending shivers down his spine. And holy shit, that fucking accent. _Unf._ Where was he from? He sounded English, for all the Italian knew, yet it wasn't the same accent the eyebrow bastard had used.

He walked past Lovino and out of the store, Lovino's heart racing as he quickly turned around to watch the retreating redhead walk in the general direction of the campus. He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat.

"…Sir? Would you still like to order?"

Snapped out of his thoughts, he turned to face the girl manning the cashier and he gave her a charming smile all the while trying to suppress the flush that had kissed his tan cheeks. He quickly ordered his caffeine fix in hopes of seeing the redhead still walking down the street, though he doubted he would still see him.

As soon as he got his non-fat caramel macchiato latte with a helping of whipped cream and chocolate syrup, he half-sprinted out of the store and stared down the path _he _took.

It was just as he expected. The redhead was gone.

The Italian suddenly found the urge to write lots and lots about this stranger, his inner muse acting up.

_What the fuck__'__s gotten into me, d-dammit__…_

* * *

By the time the first class was to begin, Lovino had taken a seat at the back of the room, paper and pen poised before him on the desk.

He c-couldn't shake the thoughts of _him _out of his head. A-And it was annoying as fuck— he was supposed to be concentrating on the lesson or introduction that was to come, and that redheaded bastard was fucking with his thoughts, dammit!

It's _all his fault_.

…A-All his… fault.

The room began to fill with freshman students; his future peers. They occupied the seats in groups and cliques, both a mixture of those who went to the same high school and those who met at EHU's freshman general assembly a week ago.

A brunette walked up to the seat beside his. "Um, excuse me," he said.

Lovino glanced up to look at him. "The fuck do you want?"

"Ahaha~ I was wondering if this seat was taken?" he asked, grinning sheepishly at the Italian.

The latter's eyes narrowed a fraction. "…No, it isn't."

"Then can I, ah, sit here?"

"Cheh. Do whatever you want, bastard." Lovino turned away.

The brunette grinned, laughing lightly. "_Gracias, mi amigo_! I'm Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, by the way. You?"

Lovino scowled at Antonio. "I'm not your fucking _amigo_, dammit. Now leave me the fuck alone!"

"Then tell me your name first~!"

The Italian looked at the Spaniard incredulously. "…Why the fuck would I do that?"

"Because we're going to be seatmates all year?"

_Tch, touche._

Lovi sighed and mumbled something incoherent under his breath.

Antonio leant forward a fraction. "What?"

Another mumble.

"What was that now?"

The other suddenly snapped his head to face the Spaniard, hazel eyes alight with irritation. The latter was taken aback, nonplussed by the reaction. Did he say something wrong..?

"I said my name is Lovino. Now leave me the fuck alone, dammit!"

Toni half-raised his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Okay, okay; _lo siento_,"

The Italian didn't give a response, engrossing himself with pen and paper. He was writing something down, the tip of the pen bobbing to and fro frantically.

Antonio was confused. The first class of the year hadn't started yet, and they had homework already? He shook the thoughts out of his head and replayed the morning over and over in his head, a smile tugging at his lips.

_Feliciano is so cute~!_

Truth be told, the moment he saw the cute and bubbly Italian, he was immediately attracted to him. Everything about Feliciano was so _adorable_~!

Antonio was sure everything about Feliciano was wonderful. The next time he saw Feliciano, he'd definitely ask him out!

_Maybe I should ask Franny or Gil to help me out, _he thought to himself, pulling a notebook out from his backpack. He cracked it open and went to the very back of the notebook. He drew a pen out of his pocket and immediately began to scribble hearts with Feli's name in them.

He was smitten, alright.

* * *

As Lovino tried to ignore the presence beside him, he knew it was inevitable that he'd have a seatmate. He just hoped the bastard would know to leave him alone.

He reread the page, poring over his handiwork with eyes censorious and critical.

**it****'****s funny how seeing someone**

**for only a split second**

**can stir such a tempest**

**of confusion inside of you**

**and awaken things you****'****ve never**

**known you were capable**

**of feeling before.**

**all falls apart yet falls into place**

**like the calm in the eye of a storm.**

**despite all this confusion**

**i still want to see you**

**again and again and again.**

He gulped, feeling conscious and hyperaware of the person beside him. Normally, he wouldn't give two shits about his seatmates, but that was only because the things he wrote were not related to love, nothing cringe-worthy. No, not at all.

He'd be lying if he said he's written about love before.

The Italian anxiously chewed on his bottom lip.

…_You__'__ve captivated me._

* * *

The professor immediately began the introduction of the subject, handing out the syllabi and going over their schedule in preparation for the weeks ahead, as well as a briefing on the topic they'd be having during their next meeting.

Lovino was listening, he wrote down notes and all, but he felt like he was stuck elsewhere.

Like he wasn't in the room. He did things automatically, as if on autopilot, and as soon as the bell rang, he just walked out of class, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

The sheet of paper was neatly folded and tucked into his the pocket of his jeans.

Moments after keeping his things, Antonio got up and walked out of the room for his next subject.

The notebook that he'd been doodling on was safely tucked in the confines of his backpack.

Neither person had said one word to the other the entire class.

* * *

**Translations:**

_fratello _\- brother (It.)

_Dio mio _\- Oh my God (It.)

_Mein Gott _\- Oh my God (Dt.)

_Mon Dieu _\- Oh my God (Fr.)

_hola _\- hello (Esp.)

s_i _\- yes (Esp.)

_Gott _\- God (Dt.)

_rosso _\- red (It.)

_gracias _\- thank you (Esp.)

_mi amigo _\- my friend (Esp.)

_lo siento _\- sorry (Esp.)

* * *

**Thanks for all of the feedback, follows and favourites! For this fic, I will be going with Himaruya****'****s perception of Scotland, which is: ****"****In my image, He is friendly and brave. likes alcoholic, cat, haggis, rich cultural heritage!****" ****Sorry about the anti-climatic ending. There****'****s not much room for sparks when you****'****re busy fawning over other people.**

**Please review!**

**~jellydonut16~**


	3. three

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

**_Kicking the Bucket List_**

**three**

**"I would  
****rather be  
****lost in a city  
****than in a person."  
****— Noor Shirazie**

To say Lovino was worried was an understatement. He was _terrified_.

And who wouldn't be, feeling all of these foreign… _emotions _out of the blue, merely after catching a glimpse of a passing stranger? A beautiful, mesmerising exception in the sea of people that surrounded him.

He'd never been in love before, and though he _did _often flirt with girls, he hadn't the desire to kiss them, or to be anything more than friends or acquaintances with them. In fact, if you'd asked him what he thought of love prior this morning, his answer would've been along the lines of, _What even is love?_

_Why is it called that?_

_How does one know if it truly _is _love and not some impassioned momentary infatuation? Temporary hormone-induced frisson?_

_Love, in a supposed romantic sense, is a four-letter lie filled with false hope and empty promises. It__'__s as trivial as it is superfluous._

But now he wasn't so sure.

"…_Fratello_? _Fratello_! Ve~ Lovi, listen when I'm talking to you~!" Feliciano's whining had eventually gotten to the older Vargas brother and it brought him out of his reverie. He licked his lips and turned to face Feliciano, eyes narrowed in slight irritation.

"What? What is it?" He demanded, feeling heat creep up his cheeks as if he'd been caught doing something bad. Was it guilt he was feeling, or embarrassment?

"Lovi," Feli reiterated, grabbing his _fratello__'__s _arm and giving it a small shake. "My professor for Introduction to Art is _the _Theodore Lennox! Ve~ I'm so excited!"

Lovino raised an eyebrow up, "Who the fuck is that?"

Feliciano pulled away a fraction, aghast, "Duh! He's only, like, one of the _biggest_ influences in my art! His works are _extraordinary_! _Dio mio_, Lovi, I feel so honoured just being in his presence~!"

The other Italian snorted. "Yeah, whatever. Calm your tits, Feliciano."

Almost instinctively, Feli gasped and put his hands over his chest in mock offence. "Ve~ I don't have boobs, _fratello_! That's mean!"

The older twin held back a chuckle. _What a fucking idiot._

"Anyways, how was your morning, _fratello_? Did you make any friends?" Feliciano queried, reaching over to shake Lovino's arm again. The latter shrugged his arm out of the former's grasp, rolling his eyes.

"Well, what do you think?"

Feliciano sighed, pouting at his older brother in a mixture of disapproval and disappointment. _Ve~ Why can__'__t he at least _try _to make friends?_

"Ve~ Why can't you at least _try _to make friends?"

"Why the fuck should I?"

"Well, _why not_?"

"Hmm. Touché, but no."

Feliciano harrumphed and put his hands on either side of his waist. Lovino internally cringed. _Fuck my life, not another one of Feliciano__'__s_ _fucking sermons, goddammit, what the _fuck_…_

The younger of the two had these… parental moments, in which he would actually fucking _lecture _Lovino about the importance of friends and branching out to others so he wouldn't feel so alone. The latter, at first, found them hysterical. He couldn't take his brother seriously (TBH, he still doesn't), so he just sat there, trying to suppress his raucous laughter.

But over time, it just kinda became more… bland and pathetic, so Lovino was just like, "Meh, whatever."

Just as Feliciano was about to begin the 30-minute lecture that'd probably consume the rest of their lunch break, someone had called out to him.

"Hey, Feli!"

Both the Vargas brothers turned to look at the source of the noise. Lovino internally seethed. It was the annoying fucker from his morning algebra class, dammit.

Antonio jogged over, looking so fucking _jovial_, Lovino could feel the happiness emanating from the Spaniard's being.

Ew.

"How the fuck does he know you?" Lovino asked, only loud enough for Feli to hear as Toni soon approached them.

Feliciano laughed nervously. Lovi felt suspicious and skeptical as fuck.

As Antonio's jogging slowed down to a walk, he cast a brief glance at Lovino. "Oh, _hola_, Lovino."

The latter sneered. "Fuck off."

The Spaniard, feeling sheepish and awkward, glanced at Feliciano. "Say, can I, uh, talk to you for a second?"

"Ve~ I'm all ears." Feliciano cheerfully replied, though he was internally panicking.

"…Ahaha~ In private?" Toni added, casting a quick glance at the other twin.

"Look, bastard, whatever you have to say to Feliciano, you can say in front of me." Lovino grit out, glaring daggers at the brunette.

"Uh… _Si, si_! Okay then~!"

Big mistake, Antonio.

"Feliciano, would you like to go out with me sometime?"

_Very big mistake._

Almost instantly, there was a huge crash that got both Antonio and Feliciano's attention— the metaphorical sound of Lovino putting his _Virginity Guardian Armour _on, and the literal sound of his fists slamming against the outdoor plastic table. Feli began to panic, rushing to his older brother's side.

"Excuse _you_?" Lovino demanded the Spaniard, standing up from his seat. "What the fuck do you think you're _doing_?"

"Ve~ Lovi, calm down!" Feliciano whined, clinging to his brother like a leech.

"'Excuse me'..? I— I was just—" Antonio stuttered, alarmed with the reaction of the seething Italian.

_Mierda. Why is he always so angry? What did I do?!_

"Toni! Run! Run like the wind, ve~!" The other twin cried out as Lovino started to stomp towards Antonio. The latter instinctively took several steps back in shock.

"That's _my brother _you're hitting on, you bastard! And if you think I'm gonna turn a blind eye while you corrupt _mio fratello__'__s _mind and body with your fucking idiocy and Spanishness, dammit, then you've got another thing coming right at you, dick weed!" With that being said, Lovino began to stomp (limp) towards the Spaniard, albeit the extra baggage and weight that came in the form of his younger brother.

Antonio stilled, shocked. But that only lasted a moment before he turned around and took off.

"Yeah, that's right! You _better _run, you piece of shit!" Lovino growled out, trying to pry his _fratellino _off of his being. "Dammit, Feliciano! Let go of me! What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"V-Ve~ You didn't have to be so mean, _fratello_! I would have turned him down, anyway!"

The older Vargas brother gave Feli The Evil Eye. "No," he said, voice low, grave and ominous. "You wouldn't have. You would've said 'yes' because you don't know how to let people off nicely. You're too kind, dammit. You wear your heart on your sleeve and I don't want you getting hurt, Feliciano…"

Feliciano's honey brown eyes softened as he pulled away from his brother, taking his hand. "I know that, _fratello_. But I don't want you to get hurt either."

"I don't get hurt. And even if I did, I could take it anyway." Lovino quickly interjected, his frown deepening.

The other twin opened his mouth to retort, only to close it again and shake his head sadly.

Lovino hated that he upset Feliciano. All he wanted to do was to protect him, yet here his younger brother was, hurt. Because of him.

He hated himself for it. He shrugged Feliciano's hand off, grabbed his backpack and walked away.

All he ever does is hurt people.

And in turn, they hurt him.

It's a fucked up concept of 'give-and-take', but this was his reality. There was nothing else he could do about it, right?

* * *

Lovino wandered to the outskirts of the campus, nearing the wood. He saw a well worn path leading into the thick forest and briefly contemplated going in.

He decided he didn't want to die an early death yet— he hadn't completed a thing on his bucket list, after all— and opted to walk past the pathway and to some sort of garden.

It was filled with flora of all types, with the shrubbery clipped to perfection.

After walking a bit more, he discovered he was the only one there. He saw a bench nearby, so he sat on it and pulled the note out of his pocket. Carefully, he unfolded it, and read it again with caution.

How could someone have such an effect on him?

If only he could see those beautiful forest green eyes again.

He closed his eyes and sighed, thinking of what had just transpired earlier with Feliciano. Thoughts begin to run rampant in his head. Words began to form.

Abruptly, his hazel eyes snapped open and he reached for his backpack, hastily reaching for his notepad before the words left him. He fumbled around for a pen and immediately scribbled down his thoughts at the moment, word for word.

**i will push you away**

**and wonder why**

**no one ever**

**comes to save me**

He held the notepad close to his face, eyes narrowing as he scrutinised the last line.

'_Save me__'__?_

Save him from what? What was he, some kind of fucking 'damsel-in-distress'? Hell, he could take what all those bullies have dealt him, but they couldn't take what they dished out.

He's strong, yet at the same time, he is weak. All these years of protecting Feliciano, yet the very action had hardened his heart, whilst Feliciano wore his on his sleeve. So free, so daring— because love is a scary thing.

At least it is, for Lovino. He could never bear the thought of baring himself to someone, letting them in. Because once you let someone in, they go ahead and they destroy you.

He's never experienced it before, but he won't, he _doesn__'__t want to_.

But the stranger with the eyes as green as the wood that surrounded him… Would Lovino… let him in?

Would that stranger be the one he opens his heart to? He imagined hushed whispering with him at 3AM, the bedsheets riding low on their bare hips as the words he whispers are the truest he has ever said to anyone. But then that'd prove all he's told himself out loud has been nothing but lies.

Has it always been a lie?

…He has too many issues, dammit. And if he couldn't understand the intricacies of his inner workings, how could anyone else?

Nobody could ever love someone like him, anyway, so why the hell did it even matter to him?

Why _should _it matter to him? Right?

* * *

After the first day of classes, Lovino walked home alone. Feliciano was going to hang out with his friends a bit longer before going home as well.

Barely five minutes had passed, and Lovino already found himself in front of their apartment building. He went up to the penthouse and left his bag on the floor by the couch before collapsing on top of it.

He just felt so fucking tired.

Was having emotions other than anger actually _this_ exhausting?

Kudos to Feliciano, then. And other normal people as well.

After lying on the couch for a few minutes, he decided to move to his bedroom. He sat on the bed and an aggravated sigh escaped his lips.

He reached for the Kicking The Bucket List atop his bedside table and pulled it open, examining each and every item. Most of the items consisted of travelling, seeing the world before he left it of his own accord.

It was pretty ironic, to say the least. That's what made it— in a sick, twisted sense of humour— funny.

* * *

"…And then he just started chasing me! I didn't know what to do, so I ran away," Antonio expressively recalled what had happened during lunch, along with boisterous hand gestures and exaggerated pitches in his voice.

Francis shook his head in disapproval whilst Gilbert, on the other hand, shook with mirth.

"_Mon ami_, I never thought you would give up so easily," the blond chastised, waggling his finger before the brunette.

The latter let out an easy laugh, shaking his head. "No, of course not! I'm not giving up on Feliciano just yet, Franny. Ahaha~ You should know me better than that!"

Gilbert gave his friend a good ol' pat on the back. "Good luck with that, _mein Freund_! Even Francis and I have tried dating Feli, but, _Gott_, that annoying brother of his always gets in the way! Like, what's his deal? It's _so _not awesome."

Antonio nodded his head in understanding, "Granted, it's gonna be hard with Lovino in the way, but if there's one thing I know, it's that Feliciano is worth it~!"

The three raised their drinks up; tequila for Toni, beer for Gil, and red wine for Francis, and clinked their glasses together in unison.

"Cheers!"

* * *

Meanwhile, Feliciano was sitting with his friends in the diner near the campus. He'd ordered a strawberry milkshake and a serving of fries, and was now chatting contentedly with his friends while waiting for his order.

The door opened with the sound of the bell above it ringing, and in walked one of Feliciano's best friends from high school— Kiku Honda.

He knew Kiku would be taking engineering, but he hadn't seen Kiku in EHU all day! So he momentarily assumed that Kiku had moved to another college at the last minute. In fact, Feliciano was intent on interrogating him about it via Facebook the moment he got home~! This was wonderful!

"Ve~ Kiku! Over here!"

Kiku's dark brown eyes widened in recognition of the voice and immediately turned to face the speaker. Behind the Japanese teen was an awkward yet stern looking blond with his hair slicked back. When he, too, turned to face the source of the noise, Feliciano found himself staring at the bluest eyes he had ever seen.

His heart skipped a beat.

He stood up to greet them, his smile widening a bit more.

* * *

"Say, _amigo_, where's Ludwig? You _did _say he was going to enrol here, right?" Antonio queried, nudging Gilbert's shoulder.

The albino didn't tear his carmine eyes off of the TV overhead the bar, but he didn't skip a beat when he answered. "_Ja_, he is. His flight from military school was delayed early this morning, so he got here around lunchtime. I'll see him when I get home though."

"Ah, I see. I haven't seen him in ages! I wonder how big he's gotten. What course is he taking in EHU?"

"Kesese~ _mein Bruder__'__s _taking engineering. I'm proud of him."

* * *

"Ve~ _Ciao_! My name is Feliciano! What's yours?" Feliciano asked the tall and robust blond, who pretty much towered over everyone else in the diner.

Clear blue eyes darted around the room momentarily before locking with the Italian's honey brown gaze. The blond curtly stuck his hand out. "_Hallo_, my name is Ludwig Beilschmidt. I am pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Is it okay if I call you Luddy? You can call me Feli if you want~!"

Ludwig took a step back, at a loss for what to say. Not even ten seconds of meeting this person, Feliciano already had a nickname for him!

The two stared at each other for a good full minute before Ludwig finally cleared his throat. "I… I guess you can—"

"Yay!" Feliciano tackled the blond in a hug, leaving the latter rigid in temporary paralysis. "Hi, Luddy~!"

_M-Mein__… __Mein Gott. What have I done?_

* * *

Hours later, Lovino had awoken from his nap. It was dark now, but there was no source of light coming from the hallway, so Feliciano wasn't home yet.

The brunette got up, scratching his back and yawning. He then shuffled into his bathroom to take a shower. When he'd finished and gotten dressed, he decided to derp around on the Internet and kill some time before he made himself a ciabatta sandwich for dinner.

That was his first mistake.

As bored as he was, he, of his own accord, went onto YouTube.

That was his second mistake.

Scrolling through his suggested videos, he came across one that got his attention.** 'Shrek Is Love, Shrek Is Life. (Original)'**. The video had millions of hits, so he decided, _why the fuck not, right?_

He clicked on it.

That was his third mistake.

**'_I was only nine years old. I loved Shrek so much. I had all the merchandise and movies.__'_**

_Wait, what?_

**'_I prayed to Shrek every night, thanking him for the life I__'__ve been given. __"__Shrek is love,__" __I say, __"__Shrek is life.__'_**

_What the fuck is this?_

**'_My dad hears me and calls me a faggot.__'_**

Lovino suddenly burst out laughing. He stared at the screen, watching intently for what was to happen next.

That was when it all went downhill.

A traumatised "Oh my God…" escaped his lips as he sat before the Macbook, rigid in horror.

He wanted to close the tab, to close the fucking window, but it was so fucking _disturbing_, he just— he just couldn't pull away. He was frozen in his spot from what he saw.

And ultimately, he had inadvertently watched it right to the very end.

He sat there in silence, barely breathing, barely moving an inch for a full minute, before something snapped inside of him. _That__'__s enough internet for today, d-dammit__…_

Feeling frantic, he hastily ran his fingers over his trackpad and scrolled the pointer up to the red exit button. He then scrolled the pointer to the upper left corner and over the Apple on the menu bar.

He selected _Shut Down…_ and the screen immediately went black.

Lovino hastily got up from his seat and bolted to his bed, quickly ducking under the duvet. He curled up into a foetal position, trying to push all thoughts discerning Shrek and that deranged, creepy fucker out of his head.

_Dio mio_, he _knew _he was gay, but to see it so—_narrated _so… _I don__'__t even know anymore. What the fuck did I just fucking watch?!_

The Italian was a hundred percent done with life.

So he skipped dinner and opted to go straight to sleep.

_Oh, God, the _horror_._

* * *

**Translations:**

_fratello _\- brother (It.)  
_Dio mio _\- oh my God (It.)  
_hola _\- hello (Esp.)  
_si _\- yes (Esp.)  
_mierda _\- shit (Esp.)  
_mio fratello _\- my brother (It.)  
_fratellino _\- younger brother (It.)  
_mon ami _\- my friend (Fr.)  
_mein Freund _\- my friend (Dt.)  
_Gott _\- God (Dt.)  
_amigo _\- friend (Esp.)  
_ja _\- yes (Dt.)  
_mein Bruder _\- my brother (Dt.)  
_ciao _\- hello (It.)  
_hallo _\- hello (Dt.)  
_mein Gott _\- oh my God (Dt.)

**Love is in the air~ but at the same time, it's not. Because it's not for each other. Tell me how you think the Spamano in this story will happen! Obvs, I already know, but yeah. I'd love to hear more from you guys. Thanks so much for all the feedback, favourites and follows. Constructive criticism is welcome~**

**~jellydonut16~**


	4. four

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

**_Kicking the Bucket List_**

**four**

**"_I__'__m a mess, that__'__s the best way to describe it.  
_****_Having no time to myself__'__s the only way I can fight it.  
_****_When I__'__m alone, it__'__s like I__'__m staring into a mirror.  
_****_Don__'__t know the person inside, and that__'__s never been any clearer._"  
****— _You Be Tails, I__'__ll Be Sonic _by A Day To Remember**

The next day was the general assembly for Performing Arts students. Evergreen Hollows University had many departments, under which were many more courses under those respective departments' care.

Whilst Feliciano belonged to the Art Department, Lovino belonged to the one of the Theatre of Performing Arts. There was a General Education Department, as well as as one for Technical Engineering and EHU's world-class Business School, amongst many, many more departments in the campus.

The older Vargas brother had woken up considerably early in the morning to get ready— the general assembly itself was earlier than his first class. The good thing is that he'd be having Intro to Creative Writing today. Finally, there'd be something more… structured to write about.

Lovino liked structured, truth be told. He knew what to expect, so he knew what to do. Not having control over the situation he was in gave him the distinct feeling of frustration, anger and confusion that kinda made him want to throw himself in front of a bus.

…Yeah.

_That _bad.

Yet at the same time, he hated that he was a creature of routine, bound to the same schedule that likely would never change. It was another reason to why he had the Bucket List.

Goddammit, he wanted _change_. He didn't want to be bound like this anymore, fuck, he wanted _freedom_.

But he was scared of what he wasn't used to.

It was fucking paradoxical and he hated it.

The brunette took a quick shower and got changed into a black button down and dark wash jeans, slipping his feet into his well-worn black Vans. As he exited the bedroom, he noticed the smell of cooking wafting from the direction of the kitchen area.

Feliciano was busying himself in the kitchen, stirring something in a small pot with a wooden spoon. Immediately, he picked up the presence of his older brother and turned to face him, beaming. "_Buon giorno_, _fratello_! I made pancakes~!"

He motioned to two plates set on the white marble island counters. There were two stacks of pancakes on it, each stacked to perfection.

"Why the hell are you up so early?" Lovino mumbled, automatically heading over to the cupboards to grab a bottle of maple syrup.

The younger of the two let out an enigmatic giggle, "I don't know, _fratello_. I just feel so very happy today! I feel like I'm on top of the world~!"

Lovi rolled his eyes, "Shut up, Feliciano. Or at least tone it the fuck down, it's too early to be on top of the world."

Feliciano laughed, pulling away from the pot to wrap his arms around Lovino's waist. "Aww~ Don't be so grumpy, Lovi! It's too early to be angry~!"

"What the fuck are you on, dammit?" Lovino growled out, prying Feliciano's arms off of his waist as his face flushed in frustration. "Why are you so _happy_ today?"

"Ve~ I think it's time for some hug therapy~!" Feli sang out as Lovino whirled around to face the pot. He took one glance at it and lowered the heat.

"What the fuck, Feliciano, you put the heat up too high, dammit. The compote's gonna stick to the bottom of the pot and it's gonna be a fucking bitch to wash off," he then added as an afterthought, "And screw your hug therapy, _idiota_. What kind of compote is this?"

"Ve~ It's a blueberry and strawberry compote~"

"Why couldn't you have gotten a bottle of jam, like what _normal _people do?" The older twin complained, grabbing the spoon and stirring the mixed berry compote around.

"Because I know you prefer this to jam, even if it takes a bit more time to make."

Hazel eyes narrowed in suspicion met honey brown ones. "Why are you doing this?"

Feliciano pouted. "Ve~ Why not?"

Lovino rolled his eyes as he switched the stove off, "Cheh, because you normally don't?"

"I don't what, _fratello_?" Feliciano queried, automatically moving out of the way as Lovino turned around to face the island counter and poured the compote into two equal parts on top of each pancake stack to Instagram-worthy perfection.

"Do things for me. Tch, you _have _to have some incentive or something, dammit. So just tell me what the fuck it is!"

Almost immediately, he pulled the plate towards himself and began to demolish the stack, bit by bit.

The younger of the two sat at on one of the barstools, opposite his brother. "Can't I just do something nice for you?"

Lovino glanced up momentarily. "You could, but you usually don't. But whatever. Fuck it."

Feliciano hesitantly reached for his fork and butter knife, "Ve~ Why are you in such a hurry, _fratello_?" Almost immediately, his eyes brightened as he beamed excitedly at his older brother. "Ooh~ Are you meeting up with someone? Meeting up with _friends_?!"

Feli's interest (obsession) with Lovino's social life— or lack, thereof— was kind of sad and pitiful sometimes. At least, that was what the older twin told himself.

Lovino rolled his eyes, "_No_, I am not meeting up with friends. I have a general assembly to go to." He momentarily pulled away to take a quick glance at his watch. "Fuck. I have to go."

With that, he finished the rest of his pancakes and strode over to the other side of the apartment in order to retrieve his backpack where he'd left it.

"Ve~ I'll see you during lunch, Lovi! I'll text you!" Feliciano called out, waving his _fratello _goodbye.

"Yeah, yeah," the other mumbled, rolling his eyes. "I'll see you later."

* * *

Evergreen Hollows University's Theatre of Performing Arts was an iconic theatre in the state. It was both an artistically freeing and an architectural beacon of light in the city, which drew crowds upon crowds of avid musical and opera lovers, many wishing to experience the breathtaking performances for which the department was known for.

Lovino felt his heart race against his chest in anticipation. A flurry of people, of faces he's never seen before, surrounded him as his palms began to sweat in anxiousness.

This was to be his sanctuary; his solace.

These people… he would be working with them one day, dammit, whether he liked it or not!

He could already feel his inner muse pulsating from within his being, adrenaline rushing through his veins.

Merely the structure itself was astonishing. It was so _surreal_.

This… _This _was and is the place from which he would draw inspiration, the motivation to move others with his written words. To make them feel a plethora of emotions unlike any other.

He gulped, taking another glance up at the tall building.

It was sleek and modern; pillars of iron bars held up the foundations of the building as the walls were paned with glass. _Dio_, it must really look stunning at night.

Carefully, oh-so carefully, he made his way up the grey slate steps leading to the grand double doors, both thrown open in an inviting manner. He stepped inside, glancing up at the scene before him. Grand white marble, high arches and onyx black trimmings boasted and exuded power and elegance over the mere mortals that entered.

This is where plays, books, and _dreams_ come to life. This is where they become sempiternal.

There were many people already present, now in the midst of shuffling in the theatre itself. It lifted Lovino's spirits up a bit just by being surrounded by all of these people who share the same passion for theatrics.

Lovino had made his way down the descending path to the front of the theatre, taking a seat somewhere near the stage. There were many bustling about, trying to get things in order at the last minute.

He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back into his seat. It took ten minutes or so before the orientation began.

The Dean of the Performing Arts department came up on stage and gave them words of encouragement, welcoming the new students. One by one, the seniors who were in charge of handling the ropes of majority of the department's plays came up on stage and introduced themselves. Lovino honestly couldn't find it in himself to give a shit, senior or not. He busied himself by picking at his nails, but then—

"'Ello? Good mornin', everyone,"

—his heart skipped a beat and his head snapped up at breakneck speed. Hazel eyes locked with forest green ones, once again. He sat up straighter on his seat, feeling his face flush a deep crimson. He covered the lower half of his face with one hand as he tried to suppress his blushing.

_He _was there, right before him.

Right before Lovino.

"Okay! Righ'. M' name's Allistor Kirkland, but yeh can call me Allistor. Ah'm a senior an' Ah'm takin' up Performin' Arts as a play director, though Ah've already dabbled wif a bi' of actin' of my own." Allistor began, the lights focused on him. Lovino nearly melted in his seat, _Dio mio_, he was so _close_ to him, but _not close enough_. The redhead was wearing a crisp, white linen button down and light wash jeans. He looked like perfection personified.

"Since yeh're all takin' courses under Performin' Arts, yeh'll be assistin' me for some of th' plays for th' rest of th' school year. Take i' as some kind of… _practice _for when we pass on th' ropes to yeh an' let yeh run majority o' th' plays next school year. It's very nice ta meet yeh all, an' Ah hope we can be friends." With that, he gave an awkward smile and wave at the crowd before setting the mic back down onto the stand. He jogged down the front steps and passed by Lovino, the intoxicating scent of the redhead suddenly saturating the air around him. His head spun.

For a second, their eyes locked. The Italian found it hard to breathe.

He waited for a flicker of recognition to sweep through those forest green eyes, but there was none. His heart suddenly sank to the bottom of his chest.

_He didn__'__t remember me, _he thought to himself, trying to steady his breaths. Another speaker had gone up on stage, but he wasn't paying attention to her. _Of course he doesn__'__t remember me, dammit. I__'__m nothing but another passing face._

He hated this. He hated how someone he barely knew could have such an effect on him, on his mind and body.

* * *

After the orientation, he had lingered around awkwardly, inconspicuously (he hoped) trying to catch another glimpse of Allistor again. Just _once_, _Dio mio_, only once.

_Then, _Lovino told himself. _I__'__ll leave._

Several more minutes or so of searching through the crowd, the Italian saw him again. Before he could even stop himself, he began to walk slowly, oh-so slowly to the redhead, who was animatedly talking to someone.

But then Lovino stopped.

He was practically in front of Allistor now, trying to catch his attention. Trying to catch his eye.

Once again, the Italian went unnoticed. His heart sank just a bit more.

He whispered under his breath, "I'm right in front of you, but your eyes don't see me."

He did naught but stand there in silence. Then he shook his head and walked away. _As I should__'__ve done so in the first place, _he reasoned with himself. All he wanted at first was just another glance, and he got that. But then he wanted more. He should've fucking left, d-dammit…

_Because if there__'__s _one _thing I__'__ve learnt all these years of just being me, it__'__s that I only want what I can__'__t have._

It was a bad habit of his, he glumly admitted to himself.

He glanced down at his feet, his face red hot with embarrassment and frustration. Why the fuck did he have to feel this way? Why the fuck did he have to feel at _all_, like _fuck emotions_. Fuck _having _emotions, dammit—

Abruptly, someone bumped into him, breaking his train of thought.

"Lovi, oh my gosh, is that _you_?"

Lovino turned around to face the speaker, an easygoing smile on his face. "_Buon giorno_, Bella."

The bubbly Belgian blond wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. "It's _so _nice to see you again! I never pegged you the type to take up acting, Lovi,"

He chuckled, awkwardly returning the embrace. "And you were right. I'm not. Actually, I'm taking Creative Writing under Performing Arts, so…"

She pulled away, patting his shoulder. "Oh, okay. We have several more schoolmates in this department, you know?"

He rolled his eyes, "Figures. It was bound to happen. Whose faces will I still have to see around here?"

She furrowed her brows before she started counting them off of one hand. "Well! There's Feliks, there's, well, of course, _me_, there's Elizaveta, there's Michelle— she was the transfer student we got last year, from Seychelles,"

"Oh yeah, I remember her."

"And…" she beamed at him sheepishly.

He raised an eyebrow at her, digging his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "And?"

"…And Francis Bonnefoy may or may not be taking up acting here—"

"What?! That sleazy fuckface is studying _here_?!" Lovino exclaimed, catching the attention (and glares) of some of the people that surrounded them.

Bella shushed him, motioning downwards with her hands. "Lovi, keep it down!" She giggled. "Unfortunately, yes, he is."

Lovino groaned in protest.

* * *

By the time Lovino had pulled away from the ever-loquacious blond, he had ten minutes before his first class started. It was Introduction to Creative Writing, which would carry on from 9 AM to 12 PM.

In his last-minute desperation, he found himself running clear across campus, often bumping into numerous passersby in his haste.

Just as the class was about to begin, he found himself skidding to a halt before his designated classroom. Inadvertently, he'd slammed the door open so hard, it bounced off the wall and nearly closed on him.

Lovino's face flushed in embarrassment and shame. _Shit._

Before him were his future block mates, all silently seated and staring at him expectantly.

The professor was poised before the whiteboard, a Pilot marker in her hand positioned inches before the board's surface.

"Shit." He hissed under his breath.

The professor gave him an amiable smile and pointed towards the seats. "Take a seat. You came right on time."

He gave a terse nod before stomping in the classroom and taking a seat in the back of the class in a row no one else occupied.

She then turned to face the class, "Once again~! Good morning, everyone. Welcome to the Introduction to Creative Writing." As she did this, she moved a fraction to scribble her name on the board. "My name is Professor Jacqueline Sharp. Of course, I will help guide you through your journey as a writer. I will be your mentor in regards to the creative process of writing literature. If you cannot handle constructive criticism, I fear that this is _not _the class for you."

A tense silence filled the room.

Upon receiving no negative reactions, Professor Sharp set the marker down on her desk and folded her arms over her chest. "Right. Albeit the fact that I will be the one to guide you all, do not expect me to make you the next Fitzgerald or Shakespeare." She determinedly pointed at the students before her. "You will have to do that for yourselves. In this class, you will learn how to determine your strengths and weaknesses as a writer. You will all grow as writers as you discover your forte. And if you believe that you have already discovered your forte, I will help you hone it."

She clapped her hands together. "Alright! Everyone, grab a piece of paper. Write a quick introduction about yourself. I'll allot you fifteen minutes. I'm sure that'll be enough."

Almost immediately, the sound of paper rustling around could be heard throughout the room. Lovino, who had just finished catching his breath, pulled his notepad out.

He brought his pen up to the paper and furrowed his brows.

_How the fuck do I start?_

He was at a loss for what to write.

Dammit. First class in for his future major, and he already had writer's block. How the fuck would he be able to make it in the coming years?!

_Fuck my life._

He tapped the end of his pen on the notepad. On a metronome, the tempo of the tapping would have been 260 beats per minute. But he wasn't a musician. He was a writer. He was supposed to write.

He's supposed to be writing, _right fucking now_.

But what the fuck is he even doing again?

Oh, yeah. _Not writing_.

An aggravated sigh escapes his lips.

"You okay there?" A voice asks, bringing him out of his thoughts. He gasps in surprise, seeing his professor right beside him. He glances up at her. She's in her late 20's or early 30's, give or take. She has long brown hair tied into a neat ponytail and she has grey eyes. Grey eyes that are looking at him quizzically at the moment.

"Yeah, yeah," he answers automatically. Then he notices his anxious pen-tapping and he stops. "I'm perfectly fine."

Her eyes soften. "You shouldn't stress too much about it. It's just an introductory essay. Half an essay, even. Easy-peasy."

He gulps, hazel eyes glancing back down at his empty page. There are ugly marks on the paper the end of his pen had made from all that tapping. "I know."

_But that__'__s the thing, _he thinks. _I don__'__t know what to say._

That's when he began to panic. As far as he knew, writing has been the only thing he has ever been good at. What if, after all this time, his only talent was apparently a hoax?

What if he was wrong about his talents?

What if he wasn't a good writer after all?

Wh-What if—

"Hey, you okay? You look like you're about to go into cardiac arrest." Professor Sharp had bluntly stated, though there was a trace of humour intended in her words.

He tersely nodded.

She looked at him warily for a second or two more. "Alrighty then. Just come see me if you have any questions, okay?"

Another nod.

With that, she finally walked away and minded another side of the room.

Eventually, Lovino could breathe again. But it didn't make him feel any better.

At a loss for what to write, he decided to go with the standard introductory essay everyone and their mother have written at least _once _in their lives before.

Yet at the same time, he didn't want that.

He wanted to write something that'd showcase his proficiency in writing, d-dammit…

He absolutely hated that he was being indecisive as fuck.

Lovino couldn't make up his mind. It's _just _a fucking _introductory essay_, dammit, get a fucking hold of yourself!

He ran a hand through his hair, nails raking against his scalp. _Why do I feel like this?_

The Italian took a quick glance around the room. Everyone else were either occupied with their essay or getting to know each other. The room suddenly felt much smaller and he felt so alone.

It was a room full of people, and yet, he knew no one. He would befriend no one. He knew he wouldn't.

And even before college started, he was aware of it. He accepted it entirely. Yet why did it make him feel so terrible right now?

He didn't know what to write, _Dio mio_. How many minutes had passed? His eyes flickered up to the clock above the whiteboard. He just wasted five minutes. Fuck.

Temporarily shaking off all his indecisive thoughts out of his head, he immediately wrote the typical 'This Is Me' essay.

Basic stuff. Shit nobody really cares about. Outside details, because _Dio _knows no one would ever want to know what goes on inside his head.

He finished it within ten minutes.

* * *

Since it was the first class for that subject, everyone had an early out. They, however, had homework to bring with them already.

"_Go somewhere,__" _Professor Sharp had said, _"__Go anywhere and just write. Write about what is surrounding you, be it the people or the place itself.__"_

"_That__'__s it?__" _Most of the people in class had asked, incredulous.

There was a gleam in her eyes as she affirmed it.

After class had ended, Lovino shuffled towards the general direction of the comfort rooms. The place stank like shit, but it was empty and it was quiet. Exactly what Lovino needed at the moment. He cupped his hands under the icy cold sink water before bringing it to his face.

_Dio mio_, the water wasn't just _cold_. It was _fucking arctic_.

He shivered, becoming more awake. He placed his unusually pallid hands on the rim of the sink, slowly staring up at his reflection. And, truth be told, he was startled by what he saw. When the fuck was the last time he took a long glance at himself in the mirror?

What the hell, were those actually _eyebags_? Did he really look that tired?

Physical faults aside, he had this train of thought nagging him in the inside.

Truth be told, he knew why he was so startled in the first place. It had come as a realisation to why he had such a difficult time writing that goddamn essay in the first place.

It's because when he looked in the mirror, albeit the fact that, _yes_, he saw himself, _duh_… he didn't know who he was inside anymore. Mirrors are not supposed to help you see who you are inside, but your eyes are. Because eyes are like windows to the soul, or some shit, right?

'_When you look in the mirror, what do you see?__'_

_I see someone with brown hair. He has a really annoyingly bouncy hair curl that annoys him to no end. He__'__s got hazel eyes, and an ever-present scowl on his face. He looks constipated or like he ate something past its expiry date. Even though his skin is usually lightly tanned, he looks pale and sickly as fuck right now. This fucker seriously needs some goddamn sunlight so he could tan like a golden Italian sex god. Yeah. Or a tanning bed. Actually, fuck tanning beds. That shit__'__s cancerous. But whatever._

_This is Lovino Vargas._

'_Who is Lovino Vargas?__'_

Ah… this was what stumped him in the first place.

_Lovino Vargas__… __is the brother of Feliciano Vargas. Lovino is taking a course in Creative Writing under the Department of Performing Arts in Evergreen Hollows University. He is a freshman. He comes from Italy. He loves tomatoes and Italian cuisine. He wants to become a famous writer someday._

…Stop. Rewrite.

_Lovino Vargas, brother of Feliciano Vargas, is a freshman taking a course in Creative Writing under the Department of Performing Arts in Evergreen Hollows University. He is an Italian who loves tomatoes and Italian cuisine, and he wants to become a famous writer someday._

Outside details. Details that were already so obvious.

It was all so shallow, so very shallow.

There was no depth to his self-perception.

Lovino hated it. _Abhorred _it, even.

He didn't know what else to say because he didn't know who he was inside anymore.

**Lovino Vargas is nobody_. _**He'd scribbled down on his notepad earlier, taking one long look at it before erasing its existence with correction tape.

If only correcting past mistakes and shortcomings were that easy, _si_?

* * *

**Translations:**

_buon giorno _\- good morning (It.)  
_fratello _\- brother (It.)  
_idiota _\- idiot (It.)  
_Dio _\- God (It.)  
_Dio mio _\- oh my God (It.)  
_si _\- yes (It.)

**Sorry for the delayed update! I got kinda really busy with school stuff, so I had to set this to the side. Theses SUCK. I'm quite aware that this chapter doesn't really possess the humour of the previous chapters, but this, for once, channelled the angstier side of the story. Plus, it kinda introduced new people. Finally, the redhead has a name!**

**Just a WARNING: this story will have a long-running plot, as it spans over the course of 3-4 years, and will have 3 Major Arcs: the Scotmano arc, the Spamano arc, and bulk of the Bucket List arc. So as much as I want to go straight to the Spamano arc, more often than not, you can't rush love. I hope you guys will stick around for this story though!**

**Thanks so much for all of the follows, favourites and reviews~! I'll get back to you all… someday. When I'm not as busy OTL /slapped**

**I'd really love it if you all reviewed~! I appreciate your feedback. Constructive criticism is welcome~**

**~jellydonut16~**


	5. five

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_**Kicking the Bucket List**_

**five**

"_**Punk bitch walking tall like you**__**'**__**ve got something to prove.  
**__**Nah man, **__**'**__**cause deep down you know it sucks to be you.**_**"  
**— _**Stingray Affliction **_**by ISSUES**

_Bzzzt! Bzzzt! Bzzzt! Bzzz__—_

"_Pronto_," Lovino grit out, voice croaky and laced with sleep.

"_Ve~ _Fratello_, where are you? You haven__'__t been answering my texts!__" _Feliciano asked, worry evident in his tone.

The older Vargas brother groaned, shifting around on his bed. "I'm back at home, _idiota_. I was taking a nap."

"…_Oh. Have you eaten yet, Lovi? I__'__m at the diner right now.__"_

There was a brief silence as Lovino tried to collect his thoughts. Finally, he responded, "Yeah, and?"

He heard Feliciano sigh through the line, _"__Do you want to have lunch with me, _fratello_?__"_

More silence. Lovino slowly sat up. "No. I'm good. I'll just make myself something at home."

He could practically hear Feliciano pouting. Dammit.

"_Ve~ But Lovi~__"_

An aggravated sigh escaped the older twin's lips. "What, dammit?"

"_Trust me~! It__'__ll be fun to hang out with other people! My friends aren__'__t as terrible as you think they are__…"_

"For fuck's sake, Feli—"

"_Ve~ Please, _fratello_? Pretty please with cherries and pasta on top?__"_

Lovino's face scrunched up in disgust. "The fuck? 'Cherries and pasta'?"

"Si_~!__"_

"That's disgusting, Feliciano."

"_Stop changing the subject, Lovi~ Please come? Pwease, ve~__"_

A frustrated, strangled noise escaped the older Italian's lips. "_Fine_! I'll be there in a few, dammit—"

"_Yay~! I__'__m so happy! You won__'__t regret it, Lovi, I__'__ll see you soon~! Bye~__"_

_Click._

Almost immediately, Lovino flopped back down onto the bed. He stared up at the ceiling in regret.

_What the fuck have I done?_

* * *

Feliciano slipped his phone into his pocket, smiling to himself.

"Was that your brother, Feliciano-kun?" Kiku asked from the seat beside him. There were so many in their group, they had to combine two tables together. The latter beamed.

"Ve~ It is~! I sure hope he'll come after all."

"I haven't seen Lovino-san all summer. How has he been?"

The Italian pouted, "Hmm… I've been kind of really worried for Lovi lately. He just seems so lonely nowadays."

Kiku nodded at this. "I see what you mean. But perhaps it has only been now that you've noticed."

"Ve~ Noticed what?"

"Er… Lovino-san's loneliness."

Before Feliciano could even think twice about it, the bell above the entrance to the diner chimed, signalling the entrance of new customers. In walked the Bad Touch Trio, who took the four-seater booth near him. Antonio called out to him. "Hey! Feli!"

Feliciano turned to face the Spaniard, beaming back. The confrontation with _fratello _and Antonio yesterday made him feel somewhat sheepish, yet the brunette didn't seem very fazed about getting chased by Lovi. "Hi, Toni!"

Why did he have the distinct feeling that Antonio was going to be more persistent than the others?

* * *

Lovino glanced at his reflection in the full-length mirror by the hallway, hazel eyes censorious. He daren't look up close lest he have another fucking epiphany. Fuck epiphanies. They weren't even the good kind, the ones that changed your entire life for the better.

It was only a fucking realisation of how fucking _pathetic_ his life actually is.

And that, in itself, was something Lovino was already fully aware of— and he has been, for a while now.

A sigh escaped his lips. Did he really have to go? To the diner? What the hell would he even eat there?

He knew he'd have to make his presence known there, because Feliciano would _definitely _hound him nonstop the moment they were both at home. Why the fuck did Feliciano have to go to the diner anyway? The diner was farther away from campus than their apartment was. So that's… pretty fucking stupid.

W-Well, not unless you were too lazy to cook or anything, d-dammit…

A sigh escaped his lips as he returned to his bedroom to retrieve his backpack. As he did so, his eyes fell on the Bucket List and he wondered when the hell he'd finally get started on the damn thing. Some people were lucky. They had opportunities presented to them at every corner and every turn, and their futures were boundless— limitless. Everyday, they could wake up with a smile on their face and conquer the challenges life presented them. These people are strong. Confident. Motivated. Inspirational.

Like Feliciano.

Everywhere he goes, it's like a path of gayness and rainbows follow his feathery-light and dainty footsteps as he frolics yonder over valleys and valleys of… of fucking carnations and daisies or something like that. Metaphorically, whereas Feliciano was a unicorn-slash-pegasus lovechild with a long shiny mane that put the colour spectrum to shame— the type of magical horse that shit rainbows and puked Skittles— Lovino was a fucking potato-brown Shetland pony. _Dio_, he absolutely _abhorred _the fuck out of potatoes, so in a way, it was like saying he hated himself.

It was and is a cruel comparison, but somewhat true nonetheless.

People like _him_— like Lovino… They were the kinds of people that woke up in the morning and wondered why they were even alive in the first place. Why they even bothered to continue living when everything has become so cruelly routine— it wasn't even a nice type of routine in the first place, d-dammit…

It was boring and monotonous as fuck, and he hated the fact that he wasn't good enough to have a future as bright as Feliciano's as well.

Was he _jealous_ of his younger brother?

Oh, yes. God, yes. Who wouldn't be?

But he would never admit that to anyone else.

A-Anyways, Feliciano still needed him, so Lovino just needed to bullshit through life for just a little bit longer. Bullshit indeed.

Lovino broke away from his quasi-depressing thoughts and grabbed his notebook, stuffing it inside his backpack. He hated how he had huge vacant periods, but his schedule was restrictive enough to ensure he couldn't do much either, like go to the mall or something.

Then again, he had neither want nor incentive to go to their town's shitty mall anyway, so fuck that.

He had class later at three PM 'til five PM. General Sociology.

The brunette took a glance at his watch. He had quite a while before his class started, so he'd decided to make up for his shortcomings earlier in the Introduction to Creative Writing and work on his homework somewhere after having lunch with Feliciano.

With that, he finally walked out of the apartment, locking the door behind him.

* * *

"Say, Feli, would you like to go on a date with me sometime?" Antonio asks, wedging a seat between Feliciano and Ludwig, his emerald eyes sparkling with determination.

"It might upset _mio fratello_ Lovi, though," Feliciano says, pouting at him. He didn't want to lose Toni as a friend by outright rejecting him, but he didn't want to make Lovino angry either— especially when he's been so stressed lately!

_Ve~ Who am I kidding? It _will _upset Lovi either way. _Dio mi salvi_._

He inwardly sighed. _Fratello _was right. He _was _incapable of saying 'no'. If only he could call on the power of _fratello__'__s Virginity Guardian Armour _and don the metaphorical armour himself.

Antonio drew back, pouting as well. "Oh, yeah. Lovino. He's your older brother, _si_?"

Feliciano laughed airily. "_Si_, he is~!"

"…Are you sure you two are related?" the Spaniard asks, his expression grave and serious.

The smaller brunette nodded. "Yep, we sure are~!"

Toni's eyes widened in disbelief. "Really? When Gil and Franny told me stuff about him, I couldn't believe it either~!"

"Lovi isn't very fond of big brother Francis and Gil, so…"

Antonio chuckled at that. "You call him 'Lovi', huh? That's cute~"

"Ve~ _Grazie_!"

"You know what'd be even cuter?" Toni asks, turning the charm up a notch. He leant in a fraction, smiling charmingly at Feliciano. "If you went out on a date with me."

The bell chimed, as if on cue, and in walked _fratello_.

"Do you like pasta? If you want, I can make pasta for you and we can have a picnic at the park—"

_Smack!_

Lovino drew his hand back, shaking it after he'd smacked Antonio on the back of the head. _Dio_, his hand stings like a motherfucker right now. "Eugh. What the fuck do you think you're doing, _bastardo_?"

"Hey, there's no need to be such a dick, Lovino." Gilbert drawled, crimson eyes gleaming in irritation as they narrowed at the older Italian who had come to rain on their parade.

"Not when _this _asshole is trying to hit on _mio fratello_." Lovino bit back, sneering.

"Hey, why do you have to be so mean?" Toni's voice piped up, a hint of annoyance in his tone.

"Shut the fuck up," Lovino answered almost automatically, crossing his arms over his chest.

Gilbert leant forward, "Just because _you _don't have a life doesn't mean you have the right to ruin Feliciano's. What the fuck is your problem anyway?"

Lovino looked at the Bad Touch Trio sourly. "Unfortunately, my problem is you."

"Come, now, Lovino. Who are you to talk?" It was Francis who spoke this time, peering up at the Italian from venti cup of Starbucks he'd brought in with him. "Antoine here did nothing to you, and still, you have the audacity to insult someone you don't even know."

Feliciano watched in silent horror as Lovino put on a façade of collectedness, smirking at the Frenchman. "Well, aren't we all hypocrites here?"

"Why don't you just do us all a favour?" Gilbert asks, standing up to his full height. "Fuck off. No one wants you here."

Immediately, the smirk melted away into Lovino's oft-worn scowl. Feliciano wanted to stand up, to stop them, but he found himself rooted to his seat, unable to blink; unable to move.

Big brother Toni had stood up, trying to break up the fight.

The entire diner had gone silent now, with all the patrons spectating what was to come attentively.

Instead of breaking up the fight, Antonio was inadvertently dragged into it. He was trying to get Gilbert to stop, trying to explain his intentions to Lovino, but all of it fell on deaf ears. Lovino reached up to grab the collar of Antonio's shirt, only to have Ludwig stand up and intervene.

"Who the fuck are _you_?" Feliciano vaguely hears Lovino demand of the blond. His voice is muffled, like Feliciano is underwater. The owner of the diner is here now, trying to keep hell from breaking loose in his restaurant.

_Why can__'__t I move?_

He flinches as Lovino shoves Antonio back and says something to the owner before storming out of the diner. All falls silent before Feliciano finally stands up, his chair toppling over in haste.

Lovi.

He needs to find Lovi.

He barely spares the Bad Touch Trio a betrayed glance before hurrying out of the diner and looking both ways of the street. Barely ten seconds have passed since the older Vargas had left the diner, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Before Feli's mind even registers it, he's running down one path which leads to the intersection. Lovino isn't anywhere in sight. In his state of panic, tears have run down his cheeks, leaving him gasping for air.

Feliciano flinches as someone wraps their arm around him.

"Feli," it was Toni who spoke, whose voice did nothing to calm his frazzled nerves. "Are you okay?"

Toni leans in and wipes the tears away, trying to shush him. Feliciano glances to the side and he sees Gilbert and big brother Francis making their way over.

"_M-Mio fratello_, I need to find _mio fratello_," Feli gasps out, trying to move Toni's hands out of the way. He storms over to Gilbert and meets him halfway with a glare. "How could you do that to him?!"

The albino was stunned at the outburst. Just as he was about to respond, the Italian cut him off. "Do you know how hard it is just getting him to talk to other people?! _Dio_, Gilbert, I wanted him to make friends! He's a-always been alone, but I didn't want him to be so lonely anymore—"

Feliciano chokes on his sobs. Kiku and Ludwig have followed. The sobbing Italian makes his way to the two of them and wraps his arms around Ludwig's torso, weeping into his chest. The younger Beilschmidt is taken aback, at a loss for what to do, until Kiku starts patting Feliciano's back in a soothing manner.

* * *

_Ding!_

In his haste, Lovino had ducked in one of the stores, just wanting to get away from everybody. Everything. He had a hunch that Feliciano would try and follow him, so he decided to give his _fratello _the slip. He didn't mean anything by it, but he just— he just wanted to be alone right now.

His mind barely registers the customers quizzically glancing at him, or the slightly skeptical store owner, let alone what type of store it actually was. His head is spinning.

Lovino shakes his head and glances up at the people in the store. Automatically, they glance down, feigning ignorance. The brunette held back a scoff.

Tools. There were tools everywhere.

And not just in a metaphorical sense either.

This was a hardware store.

The Italian slowly made his way down the leftmost aisle, hazel eyes absently inspecting the goods as the unwanted thoughts began to fill his head again.

'_**Fuck off. No one wants you here.**__**'**_

_Fuck you, Gilbert. Go choke on a hundred cocks, you piece of shit._

'_**Just because **_**you **_**don**__**'**__**t have a life doesn**__**'**__**t mean you have the right to ruin Feliciano**__**'**__**s.**__**'**_

_Vainglorious cunts like you are practically the reason why lives are ruined, anyway._

'_**No one wants you here.**__**'**_

_Common knowledge._

'_**No one**__**—'**_

_I__—_

'_**wants**__**—'**_

—_already__—_

'_**you here.**__**'**_

—_know!_

He gulps, trying to suppress the lump forming in his throat. Did they seriously think he didn't— _couldn__'__t _see how everyone was staring at him like he had _two _fucking heads? Did they really think of him that ignorant?

A shaky breath escapes his lips.

He wasn't blind.

Everyone hates him. He knows that already.

So why point out the fucking obvious, right?

…E-Even Feliciano didn't want him there, d-dammit…

_Fratello _was silent, so silent.

He was probably ashamed of having such a brother in the first place, with him c-causing such a scene like that…

_D-Dio__… __Of fucking _course _I know everyone would be better off without me, anyway._

Hazel eyes slowly glanced up, finally taking in its surroundings. Before him, he found ropes and cords of all kinds.

A bitter smirk tugged at his lips. Was this a sign?

He reached up for a length of brown rope made out of twine and wondered how difficult it'd be to make a noose out of it. The brunette experimentally tries bending the rope, as if making a knot in itself.

…It shouldn't be too hard.

This thing would support his weight, right?

He pulled at it, feeling its texture. This thing would wring his neck like a motherfucker, but it wouldn't matter because in a matter of minutes, he'd already be dead.

He took a glance at the price. _Jeez, how long _is _this thing?_

He decided that ten metres worth of rope was a bit too much.

Lovino leant down a fraction, trying to find the same type of rope but with shorter length. Shortest he could find was five metres long.

Good enough.

He pulled a coil of rope out of the hook and made his way to the back of the store, where the cashier register was. He set it down on the counter, averting the cashier's gaze. He was probably in his late forties. He wore a jumpsuit with the name tag 'Stan' embroidered on it. Stan reeked of sweat and beer.

Stan leant back from his newspaper and folded it away. He had a beer gut. Fucking disgusting.

"What're you going to do with this rope, kid?"

_What__'__re you going to do with your beer gut, Stan?_

"Tch," Lovino scoffed. "Nothing you need to know. Just ring it up."

Stan smirked this little smirk— the type that made Lovino want to throttle someone in his mentally disoriented state. "Heh. Sure, kid."

He really wanted to punch this guy in the face right now.

Several aggravating minutes later (he had to watch the lard ass try and reach for the stack of paper bags in front of him with much difficulty) he finally had his purchase stuffed in his backpack for later perusal.

He'd have to Google 'how to make a noose' later.

He exited the hardware store and made his way to the park, where he worked on his homework for Introduction to Creative Writing.

* * *

Feliciano was beginning to feel a bit fidgety.

It was nearing six PM and still, his brother was nowhere to be seen.

_Where is he?_

He leant against the island counter, staring at the dinner he'd prepared and laid across the dining table. He had cooked seafood marinara pasta and baked garlic bread to go along with it.

"Don't worry, Feliciano-kun. I'm sure your brother will get home soon." Kiku piped up from the general direction of the living room, staring at his friend with concern.

"V-Ve~ If you say so, Kiku…"

An hour earlier, Ludwig had still been here, whilst Feliciano was busying himself with cooking.

An hour later, Kiku left.

Feliciano was by his own lonesome now.

He hated the silence. It was unnerving.

_Is this__… __is this what _fratello _feels like whenever he__'__s alone at night? _He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to rub the cold away. _Ve~ I don__'__t like it._

_Clack._

Feliciano's heart skipped a beat as he ran towards the front door. "Lovi!" He launched himself into the older twin's arms, "Lovi, I missed you so much! Where were you?!"

Lovino glanced at him, an eyebrow raised in confusion. "The fuck? I had sociology class. Then I just—" An aggravated sigh escaped his lips. "I just went for a walk. I guess I lost track of time. _Mi dispiace_."

He pried Feliciano's arms off him.

"V-Ve~ About what happened earlier, _fratello_—"

"It's not your fault."

"But it _is_! I couldn't do anything, I couldn't stop them from saying bad things to you!" The younger Vargas was crying now.

Lovino sighed, wrapping his arms around his younger brother's body. "Calm the fuck down, Feliciano. This shit isn't new to me. I can handle it."

Muffled sobbing.

"…What?"

Feli pulled away, reiterating what he'd just said. "B-But I don't want you to handle it! Not on your own! What Gilbert said hurt me too, _fratello_!"

"Don't be," Lovino coaxes, rolling his eyes. "That idiot adores the shit out of you."

The other sniffled, pouting. "I'm mad at him right now."

"Tch, don't worry. I am too." The two hugged it out.

Finally, Feliciano was the first one to pull away, laughing albeit the tears still running down his reddened cheeks. "Ve~ _Ti amo_, _fratello_,"

The response is automatic, but it makes Lovino happy inside. "_Ti amo troppo_. C'mon, let's go eat before the food goes cold already, _si_?"

Feliciano nods, completely and blissfully unaware of the clumsily-made noose in Lovino's backpack.

* * *

**Translations:**

_pronto _\- ready/hurry (It.)  
_fratello _\- brother (It.)  
_idiota _\- idiot (It.)  
_Dio _\- God (It.)  
_mio fratello _\- my brother (It.)  
_Dio mi salvi _\- God save me (It.)  
_si _\- yes (It./Esp.)  
_grazie _\- thank you (It.)  
_bastardo _\- bastard (It.)  
_mi dispiace _\- I'm sorry (It.)  
_ti amo _\- I love you (It.)  
_ti amo troppo _\- I love you too (It.)

**So I made a thing because I didn****'****t really have anything to do. Much feels.**

**Review **_**por favor**_**~!**

**~jellydonut16~**

**P.S. I JUST DISCOVERED THE SPEECH TO TEXT FEATURE ON MY LAPTOP. I CAN NEVER TAKE MY OWN WRITING SERIOUSLY EVER AGAIN HAHAHA SOBS**

**WHAT IS LIFE**


	6. six

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_**Kicking the Bucket List**_

**six**

**"_I'm going blind, but one thing's clear,  
_****_Death is the only salvation for me._"  
**— _**The House of Wolves **_**by Bring Me The Horizon**

That night, Lovino shoved the sloppily crafted noose underneath his bed, hidden in one of his Nike shoeboxes. He'd made it after his Sociology class was over. Like he told Feliciano, he took a walk. A long one, along the outskirts of the wood.

He found more inspiration in the wood than in the park, truth be told, so he scrapped his previous work and worked on it again. After a while, though, he had stopped to take a break. He decided to pull his phone out and search for tutorials on making a hangman's noose. I-It was getting dark, so the knot ended up being pretty shitty. But still, it felt somewhat _comforting _in a way to have that noose in his backpack, like the safety one would feel having a rosary in their pocket.

Sure, it was sick and twisted as fuck. But for _once_, he felt like he had control over _something _in his life.

It was like he found comfort in the promise of death. After all, it _was _inevitable. The only thing in this world anyone could ever be certain of. And everyone, despite rank, reputation, race, monetary possessions or beliefs, would eventually succumb to it.

_In the end, it only proves that push comes to shove, we__'__re only humans._

* * *

…Lovino wasn't exactly sure what the fuck happened, but it sure as hell _seemed _like he had fallen into a routine. It's been several days now of the same thing.

_Every_day, Feliciano would wake up during the ass crack of dawn, belting out tunes from Billboard Hot 100 and concocting a myriad of colourful breakfast foods. _Every_day, he would dance and prance around the room, trying to get Lovino to d-_dance _with him (_what the actual fuck?_) or at least _sing _with him.

Hahahaha, no.

_Hell, no._

_**Over my dead, sexy Italian body, no.**_

_Ahem._

B-Besides, Lovino had no time for shit like that, d-dammit…

His day, however, would never fail to worsen the moment he stepped out of the apartment building. _Dio_, it was the _absolute fucking worst_.

Remember the Spanish bastard that tried to corrupt Feliciano's purity? The one who was _partially_ immune to Lovino's _Virginity Guardian Armour_?

Yeah, he would be there.

In front of the goddamn building.

_Every fucking morning._

Doing _what_, you ask?

Cheh, the _stronzo _would just fucking _loom _there outside like some goddamn _stalker _with bouquet upon bouquet of roses dedicated to his '_precious Feliciano_'. P-Perverted creep…

To Lovino, it was reminiscent of the music video for Mariah Carey's song 'Obsessed'.

The only thing it lacked now was a bus to ram into the Spaniard and launch him across town.

'_Where__'__s Feliciano?__' _the little shit would ask the _moment_ Lovino exited the apartment building. _Every _fucking time.

A-And Lovino was fed up with it, dammit!

"You know, I'm pretty sure this is trespassing of private property, asshole." Lovino sneered, exiting the building a Monday morning.

Then the _bastardo_ would just give him this irritatingly ignorant smile, "Ahaha~ This is an apartment block~ I'm not trespassing anyone's home, Lovino~."

Lovino's face flushed red in frustration. _Che palle! _"Yeah? Well I can report you to the goddamn police for _stalking my brother_, you creepy Spanish bastard!"

And as if on cue, Feliciano would skip out of the building. Lovino always, _always _has to intercept the Spanish bastard's hugs— with his motherfucking _foot_— before he has the chance to glomp (and further corrupt) his innocent _fratello_.

The bastard just _wouldn__'__t give up_. And i-it's bad enough that Lovino couldn't get the bastard to leave him and his _fratello _alone, no, the fucker _lingered_.

It was annoying as fuck.

The absolute _best _Lovino could do was to stay in between Feliciano and Antonio as they c-conversed, like some kind of fucking cockblock barrier o-or something…

Fuck.

He seriously needed to get his shit straightened out, ASAP.

There were many things Lovino didn't want to be, and being a 'cockblock barrier' was _definitely _one of them.

A-And _every_day, he would be _so livid _by the time his first class came around, he couldn't even fucking _function _properly. Learning and processing new lessons isn't exactly a walk in the goddamn park when you feel like ripping a certain _Spaniard__'__s _throat out.

_Dio mio_, whenever he _happened _to have the same classes as the bastard (Antonio's an irregular student in his math and philosophy classes), he would _try _to resist the undeniable urge to fucking _defenestrate _him, but just barely. _Just. Barely._

He could tell, though, that the Spaniard wasn't too happy about his being around either, always asking Feliciano if they could just t-talk in _private_. So when he and Lovino had classes together, it was like Antonio was trying to annoy him with stupid questions and remarks on purpose as some kind of _payback_. He saw that gleam of irritation and mischievousness in his emerald green eyes, and it was painfully obvious that the smile on his face was fake. It was almost _taunting_, even. Truth is, he was no different than that self-proclaimed Prussian dickhead, Gilbert, or that perverted French fuckface, Francis. After all, birds of the same feather flock together, right?

Lovino wasn't sure exactly how long he could take being around the idiot anymore before he finally committed a felony.

But _Dio_, it would feel_ so fucking good_.

He snapped out of his tantalisingly illegal thoughts. It's funny how imaginative the human mind can be with the right kind of _pissed_. Funny, but at the same time, somewhat scary and unnerving. How perturbing would it be to realise that you have the inner workings of a psychopathic serial killer?

Feliciano and that bastard were still talking animatedly. Lovino rolled his eyes, taking a glance at his watch. He had the same math class as that Spanish bastard, but it didn't seem like he would be leaving Feliciano alone anytime soon.

…Asshole.

He felt conflicted.

Either he leaves them be and _not _be late for class, or he _looms _there until the idiot finally leaves his _fratello _alone.

_Dio_, that's a tough one.

But the Vargas didn't want to be marked as 'late' so early in the academic year because some Spanish fucker thinks he has the so-called '_suaveness_' to get into his _fratello__'__s _pants. That is _never _going to happen.

**Ever.**

"I'm going now," Lovino murmured to his brother, rolling his eyes.

Immediately, Feliciano directed his attention to his _fratellone _and gave him a quick hug. "Ve~ I'll see you later, Lovi~!"

Lovino's face reddened, trying to pry Feli's arms off him "W-What the fuck? Don't just h-hug me like that in _public_, dammit!"

"Aww, that's so cute~!" Antonio suddenly gushed, starry-eyed at the display.

"Ugh, stop staring, you perverted fuck!" Lovino spat out, voice absolutely dripping with rancour.

The smile on the Spanish bastard's face faltered by a fraction. The older Vargas inwardly smirked.

"Ahaha~ Right. _Lo siento_, Lovino." Antonio laughed, but it was obvious that his laugh was fake. He glanced down at his watch then looked up at Lovino, eyes slightly more serious, more dark. Like a hidden gleam of murderous intent.

Looks like Lovino wasn't the only one with closeted psychopathic serial killer tendencies around here.

The Italian let the smirk slowly creep upon his face in a mocking manner.

Feliciano ignored the promise of future bodily harm exchanged between the two and clutched the bouquet of roses Toni had given him to his chest. "Ve~ Thanks for the roses again, Toni~!"

As if a switch had flipped, Toni turned to Feli with an oh-so genuine grin on his face. "Ah, it's no problem, Feli~! Anything for someone as cute as you~"

"But you really don't have to, Toni~ Our apartment is filled with roses now~!"

"Oh? Then if you want, I can give you chocolates instead~"

"This is disgusting." Lovino inadvertently blurted out, abruptly turning around and walking away. "I don't have time for this. I'm leaving."

"Ah, I better head to class," Antonio concurred, pointing at his watch. "I don't want to be late~!"

Feliciano nodded in understanding. "Bye Toni~! By _fratello_~! I'll text you during lunch, Lovi~!"

The older Vargas didn't bother looking back. "Yeah, whatever."

"If you want, you can text _me _during lunch~!" Antonio had the audacity to say.

Sleazy bastard.

"V-Ve~ You two better get to class now~!" Feliciano exclaimed, waving at them goodbye. Little did the other two know he was internally panicking. _What if _fratello _starts chasing Toni again?!_

"Ah, _si_, _si_! I'll talk to you soon, Feliciano~!"

_Ve~ _Grazie a _Dio~ He didn__'__t acknowledge it! Crisis averted~!_

"_Ciao_~!"

And Antonio finally turned around, following the other Italian to their class. He sped up a bit more, grabbing Lovino's forearm.

Lovino whipped around to face him, fist clenched and poised to punch. "What the fuck do you want?!"

"_What _is your _problem_, Lovino?" Antonio demanded, eyes narrowed. "_I__'__m _just trying to be the nice guy here, but you aren't even _trying _to be nice to me."

"Bullshit. What do you even _mean _by 'nice guy'? You think you're nice because you're trying to screw my brother? And why the fuck should I even '_try_' to be nice to a fake bastard like you? At least I call it how I see it, and all I see right now is a fucking _asshole_." Lovino jerked his arm away, casting a sneer at the Spaniard. He continued walking.

"Oh, and _you__'__re _the one to talk! Ahahaha~" Antonio 'laughs' in response, hot on the other's heels.

The Italian scoffs at him, "Yeah, I am, because it takes one to know one. At least I can find it in myself to admit it."

A pregnant silence falls over them before Antonio is the one to break it.

"God, why can't you be more like Feliciano?"

Lovino's stomach lurches. He stops dead in his tracks, leaving the Spaniard to bump into him.

"H-Hey, what was that for—"

"I ask myself the same thing all the fucking time," the Italian responds, tone bitter with contempt. "I'm going to say this once, and I'm going to say this slowly." He turns to face the Spaniard, toe-to-toe as he glared up at those emerald eyes.

And for the first time, Antonio was taken aback with the intensity of hazel. His heart had skipped a beat before it started to thrumagainst his chest. _D-Dios mio__…_

"You don't _know_ me. You never _will_. Got it?" The Italian before him seethed, and, as promised, each word was pronounced slowly as it sunk into the Spaniard's conscience.

The latter's breathing intensified as he gave the other a curt nod.

T-Then Lovino turned around and walked into their classroom.

Antonio was just left standing there, feeling overwhelmed in a way. With what, he didn't know.

…Yet.

He stood there for a while before he finally entered the room.

"Fernandez-Carriedo, you're late." His math professor drawls, prompting a handful of people to chuckle.

"Ah, _lo siento_, _Se__ñ__or _Robertson." Toni apologised, grinning sheepishly at him.

"Just take a seat, Mr. Carriedo." Mr. Robertson says, writing out a couple of equations on the board.

"Ah, _si_! _Gracias_, sir," And with that, Antonio made his way up to his seat in the back of the room.

Beside Lovino.

_Dios_, the tension between them was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. He could feel it from all the way across the room, even!

Slowly, he took his seat beside the Italian, who did not acknowledge his presence. Instead, the latter was busy scribbling something down in his notebook, some words barely intelligible as they danced across the page, line by line, word by word.

Antonio didn't know why, but Lovino was always engrossed in his notebook. He always wrote.

About what, he had no idea.

He had a hunch it contained innumerable expletives though. The older twin just seemed so _angry _and unapproachable all the time. Actually, scratch that— he _is _angry and unapproachable all the time.

But why?

* * *

Lovino was pissed.

W-Well… _more _pissed than usual, anyway, d-dammit…

But, no, seriously. Who the fuck does that Spanish bastard _think _he is, comparing him to Feliciano like that? If there was one thing he hated more than himself, it was being reminded of what he already knew. E-Even though Lovino's gotten used to the comparisons already, that didn't mean they didn't affect him anymore. So, yeah, it still _did_. It sure as hell did.

And you know what?

It fucking _hurts_.

It hurts a _lot _(N-Not that he'd admit it to anyone else, anyway, d-dammit).

Like, _yeah_, thanks for fucking _rubbing it in his face _about how much _better _his brother is. It's like rubbing salt into his wounds, kicking him when he's already down. And he, for the sake of himself, could not find a way to get back up on his feet again.

In all honesty, he didn't want to. Not anymore.

After being brought down time and time again by the people around him, he'd given up a long time ago trying to pick up the pieces. Because since nothing would ever get better for him, why even bother trying, right?

Because no matter all the bullshit you go through in life, it all ends the same, right? So why not just _give up_?

_Nothing__'__s _going to change— at least, for the better— so why even try at all?

The duration of the class, he had to suppress this lump of feels forming in the back of his throat, feeling an onslaught of tears sting the back of his eyes. He felt like a wuss because of it, but he wouldn't let anyone see him cry, and they never will.

He won't give them that satisfaction.

Plus, why should that Spanish bastard's opinion matter to him anyway? He's no different than the rest of them.

Right?

As the class came to an end, he felt the Spaniard's eyes lingering on him for a few seconds. Just as Lovino was to meet his gaze with a pointed glare, a retort readied on the tip of his tongue, Antonio had grabbed his bag in haste and left.

Lovino's eyes narrowed, trained on Antonio's quickly retreating form.

_Fucking weirdo._

* * *

**Translations:**

_D__io_ \- God (It.)  
_stronzo_ \- asshole (It.)  
_bastardo_ \- bastard (It.)  
_Che_ _palle_ \- what a pain in the ass (It.)  
_fratello_ \- brother (It.)  
_Dio_ _mio_ \- oh my God (It.)  
_fratellone_ \- older brother (It.)  
_lo_ _siento_ \- sorry (Esp.)  
_si_ \- yes (Esp.)  
_grazie_ _a_ _Dio_ \- thank God (It.)  
_ciao_ \- hello/goodbye (It.)  
_Dios_ _mio_ \- oh my God (Esp.)  
_se__ñ__or_ \- mister (Esp.)  
_gracias_ \- thank you (Esp.)  
_Dios_ \- God (Esp.)

**Hayy~ I tried to finish this chapter in time for the weekend since I****'****ll be pretty busy next week.**

**OH, YOU *sassy hand wave***

**Thanks **_**so much**_** for all of the reviews! I****'****m not kidding when I say they made me blush. I feel so **_**elated**_**~ [CRIE S T EA RS OF J OY]**

**Anyways, I****'****m sorry this chapter was kinda really short D: I****'****ll totes post a longer one next time~ but I hope it was up to par. This chapter was kind of like a filler intended to shed much needed light on Toni and Lovi, and how much shittier their relationship has gotten since that day in the diner. Who knows what****'****ll happen next? ?**

**[suSPENSEFUL MUSIC]**

**Review, **_**por favor**_**~!**

**~jellydonut16~**


	7. seven

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_**Kicking the Bucket List**_

**seven**

_**l**__**'**__**esprit de l**__**'**__**escalier  
**_— **(Fr.) That feeling you get when you leave  
****a conversation and think of all  
****the things you should have said.**

Every second week of the first semester in each academic year of Evergreen Hollows' University was known as Organisation Week, oft abbreviated as Org Week. Each course had their own mandatory organisation, though there were a myriad of other extracurricular organisations as well. These organisations would hold general assemblies, meetings, and workshops in order to improve oneself at his or her respective course.

One of these was the Evergreen Hollows Performing Arts Society, or PAS for short.

The PAS often holds many workshops and orientations to accommodate the creative needs of their organisation members, and, during semestral breaks, bring the students to strategic parts of the world (New York, USA; Los Angeles, USA; London, UK; Paris, France; etc.) in order to help them find their niche in the inner workings of performing arts through exposure to different dramatic art forms and through experience itself.

…At least, that's what the brochure said. A-And, at least, t-that's what Lovino would have g-gotten had he not been so distracted b-by the redhead sitting in front of him…

_Fuck! Why is my h-hand shaking, dammit?!_

"Are yeh alright? Yer face is all red an' yer hand is shakin'. D'yeh want ta go ta th' clinic? If yeh want, Ah can take yeh there," Allistor queries, looking at the brunette before him with concern.

"_No_, I'm _fine_!" The Italian exclaims, hyperaware of his flushed cheeks getting even redder. _Fuck. Why me?!_

_Why _now_?!_

"Positive?" the redhead asks, standing up from his seat across Lovino and pressing the back of his hand against Lovino's forehead. It feels cool against his flushed skin. The latter found himself leaning into the former's touch. "Yeh can barely fill out th' sign-up sheet." Allistor draws his hand back and Lovino catches himself before he leans in too much._ How pathetic._

"Why don't yeh sit 'ere an' Ah'll get yeh somefink ta drink. Yeh good wi' tha'?" Allistor asks, pushing Lovino in the general direction of the seat the redhead had previously occupied. The girl sitting beside him gave the Italian a sympathetic glance.

It's only when Allistor heads to the cafeteria beside the atrium when she speaks up. "Sorry about that. Allistor's got these maternal tendencies. He babies everyone. Better get used to it. Sit down, yeah?"

"Y-Yeah…" Lovino murmurs, wondering what the fuck just happened.

"I'm Magda. Magdalene, but call me Magda." The girl says, grinning at him. She has curly hair dyed mint green and baby blue, caramel skin, and a few piercings here and there. They shake hands.

Lovino finally collects himself in time and gives her an alluring smile. "A beautiful name for a beautiful girl. My name's Lovino."

"What's your course, Lovino?"

"Creative Writing. You?"

"Media production." She smiles, tilting her head back. "Sit down now, I'm not gonna bite,"

"R-Right…" He takes a seat beside her. They sit in an awkward silence for a while.

Not even thirty seconds later, Allistor is back with a paper cup of water in hand. He hands it to Lovino— "You didn't h-have to get me this, d-dammit…"— who takes it with trembling hands and gingerly takes a small sip.

"God. You are _such _a mum, Allistor." Magdalene comments.

He pouts at her. "Nuffink bad wi' tha', methinks. An' i' comes wif takin' care of three li'l brothers,"

She laughs, "Colin is older than you by three years."

Allistor grins at her. "S'not m' fault 'e acts like e's bloody fifteen." He glances at the Italian. "Hey, yeh feelin' better yet?" His forest green eyes widen in realisation. "Oh! Yeah, Ah haven't caught yer name yet. Ah'm Allistor, by th' way."

Lovino sets the cup down, hiding his face behind his hand in a way that it'd seem like he was wiping his mouth. "My name's Lovino."

_Fuck, _he thinks to himself. And that's all he can basically think of right now, because his mind is so fucking _blank_ at the moment. All he can focus on is _Allistor_, right in front of him, talking to him, fetching _water _for him— like, who the fuck does that for a stranger, d-dammit?!— and Allistor himself.

Any train of coherent thought flew right off the fucking track the moment he glanced up and found his eyes locked with the redhead's own. His breath caught in his throat. _Dio_, he was so fucking _beautiful_, he looked like a work of art he could stare at and admire 'til the end of time.

Lovino's hand twitched. He wanted to write, and fast—before his words left him, though he knew his words could never capture such a pulchritudinous, transcendental moment. He hated that he could never do perfection personified any literary justice.

He was drawn to Allistor akin a moth to a flame.

Oh, _yes_, how he wanted that fire to consume his being oh-so very badly until there was nothing left.

_Unleash the crappy poetry__—_

A cool hand met his forehead again. _Allistor__'__s _hand.

And again, his mind went blank.

_Just_ like that.

"Ah don't fink yeh've got a fever or anyfink… Why is yer face so _red_?"

Lovino jerked his head away and immediately regretted doing so.

"Did Ah hurt yeh? Ah'm sorry—"

"Don't apologise." Lovino cut in, abruptly standing up and ignoring the guilt that spiked his conscience. He licks his lips, trying the find the right words to say so he could make his escape.

"I just—" Hazel eyes glance down at the sign-up sheet. He grabs the pen given and scrawls his basic information on it in haste. "I need to go. I forgot I had something to do."

He rushes off, faintly hearing Allistor call out, "Ah'll see yeh around then!"

The blush on the Italian's face deepens as he heads to the general direction of the campus gates.

"You scared him off," Magda nonchalantly says, filing her black stiletto fingernails to perfection whilst Allistor observed Lovino's quickly retreating figure, feeling a smidgen perplexed.

He looks at her in exasperation. "Rubbish. Ah did _not_."

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Allistor. You proper _smothered _the blazes out of the poor bloke, and now you've scared him off! _Bad Allistor!_"

"Oi! For th' record, Ah did _not _smother 'im!"

She sits up a bit more on the plastic chair, mockingly giving the redhead a betrayed look. "Cor! Some friend _you_ are. _I _tell you to buy me a bag of crisps, and _you _say you're too tired to! Bollocks! Proper bollocks!"

His eyes widen incredulously. "Tha' was _one time_, Mags! Williams 'ad me goin' back an' forth, tryin' ta finish tha' damned thesis— Ah was runnin' on a _deadline_ for God's sake!"

"Lies! Fallacies!" Magda cried out, clutching her fisted palm to her chest. "Oh, how they _wound_ me so!"

"Such _passion_. Yeh should've taken up acting," Allistor comments, taking his seat beside her.

She waved him off, "Theatrics aside, methinks you've got a thing for him,"

He sat up straight. "A-Are yeh… are yeh saying tha' Ah fancy 'im? Because Ah don't—"

"Oh, don't give me that bull— He comes in and suddenly, you're all up in his face, concerned and oh-so very worried for his well-being! Look at you, running about the campus like some deranged madman, _just_ to get him a cup of water he didn't even _ask _for! It's a bloody miracle! For the first time in _all _the years that I've known you, _you _finally show interest in someone~!" She declares, flourishing her hands before her. "Blokes over birds it is, then."

"W-_What_—" he sputters out, his face reddening. "Yeh're _absolutely crackers_, Mags! Now, _shush_—"

"Oh, please, dearie— sexual discrimination is _so _1800s. It's absolutely horrid and medieval now. Don't be embarrassed~ It's about time the world accepts the fact that some people are just not bound to the gender of their biological sex. Though, I'll admit that I've never twigged you the type to fancy men."

"Me neither," the redhead solemnly mumbles under his breath, rubbing his palms together in deep thought.

* * *

After hightailing it out of the campus, Lovino found himself locked in his bedroom. His prison. His solace.

He was immersed in his thoughts, drowning in them. Drowning in enchanting green eyes that always seemed to capture him.

He looked into those eyes and everything else just… f-faded away. In that ephemeral, encompassing moment, his thoughts devoured him whole and he found himself wishing to do things that have never crossed his mind before.

He was bordering on dangerous thoughts. Thoughts that are only dangerous for people like him.

He wanted Allistor.

He wanted Allistor to want him.

Dangerous thoughts indeed.

He felt enthralled at the redhead's careful, cautious touch. The way after Allistor drew his hand away, his touch still lingered on the Italian's flushed skin. It drove his senses crazy. He wanted more. He _craved_ for more.

But at the same time, it made him sad. These thoughts were dangerous because they made him wish for things he could never have.

He could never be good enough for someone like Allistor.

Allistor could never love someone like him.

Lovino was too callous. He was too short-tempered. He thought too much and spoke too little. Even then, he had a foul mouth that put most sailors his senior to shame.

Dangerous thoughts.

Thoughts of things he had no control over.

Thoughts that made him want to cease existing altogether _just _to spare whatever was left of his heart from the inevitable hurt.

A-And the way he just _left _like that. He screwed everything up. Why couldn't he at _least _say something more coherent and made room for conversation? Why did he always have to ruin everything? Why did he always have to cut these things short?

Overwhelmed with guilt, Lovino tossed and turned in bed, thinking of all the words he should have said. Only in his thoughts did he imagine himself to be nice. To be witty. Funny. Charming. All the things he never ever could be.

Dangerous thoughts _everywhere_.

Allistor plagued his mind. Everything about him. The way he walked, talked, looked, and even _breathed_. **Everything.**

Memorise everything, _down _to the very last detail.

Like the freckles on his cheeks, the porcelain texture of his skin.

The way his vibrant scarlet hair had this lock that always fell over his face.

Coffee.

He smelled like coffee and cigarettes.

He smoked.

Perfection personified had vices too.

_But that__'__s the point, isn__'__t it? _Lovino's thoughts supplied. _To find someone whose demons play well with ours?_

He contemplated that for a second. _Is it? Or isn__'__t it?_

Lovino felt conflicted. There was a knock on his bedroom door. It successfully brings him out of his thoughts, though it lasts only a moment.

"Ve~ _Fratello_?" Feliciano is home.

Staccato breathing.

Lovino's heart is nearly beating out of his chest, and he's found himself drenched in cold sweat. He sits up on the bed.

How long had he been there like that?

_C-Calm the fuck down, d-dammit__… _he tells himself.

"I'm here, just give me a minute," he tells Feliciano.

"Lovi, are you okay?" Feli asks, concern lacing his tone. "You sound out of breath."

Lovino's response is quick, clipped, and automatic. "I'm fine. Just leave me alone."

* * *

_Finally_, Lovino had an incentive to go to their town's shitty mall. Feliciano needed to get more art supplies and Lovino needed to get a journal. The older Vargas brother had read through his syllabus for Intro to Creative Writing during lunch and found that he needed one to… _divulge _his thoughts in.

The Italian wasn't exactly sure how he'd go about avoiding the task, but he was sure it'd settle itself somehow.

So that evening, after both of their classes, Lovino and Feliciano got into the black Range Rover _Nonno _had gotten Lovino as an 18th birthday present and went to the mall. _Nonno_ had gotten Feli a white Mercedes-Benz as well, but it was back in their former home.

Lovino's Range Rover had proven to be more useful during the move to their new apartment. P-Plus, the Mercedes wouldn't have gotten much use from its owner, anyway…

Especially since Lovino was the only one who could legally drive. Like, he actually _had_ a driver's licence.

Sure, they both applied for a driver's permit, but Feliciano hadn't passed his exam because he couldn't suppress his inner Italian Speed Demon as well as his older brother did. He sped down the road like some jacked up high schooler recreating his own version of Need For Speed.

It took Lovino all of his willpower to _not _take that as a challenge and race after his _fratello_. He fucking _needed _this licence and no wannabe Formula One racer was going to take that from him, _idiota fratellino_ or not.

Feliciano had yet to retake his test. Which didn't matter anyway, since there was only one car and Lovino sure as hell wasn't letting Feli take the wheel, _especially _after the latter had made the oh-so very _stunning_ display of making donuts on the asphalt as he was fucking _drifting_ to a halt. He could practically hear _Highway to Hell _playing in the distance.

Lovino also heard that the driving instructor Feli was with quit soon thereafter.

Hopefully, she must have found a better job by now, _si_?

_Any_ways, the mall… was ugly as fuck. _Dio_, he _hated _it. The walls were painted in the bland shades of taupe and ochre, and the place was filled with fake foliage in order to make the mall more 'aesthetically-pleasing'. Eurgh. Either way, he was here with a purpose. Get a journal, wait for Feliciano to finish up his art supplies run, and haul ass back home.

It was his turn to make dinner tonight, and he didn't want the salmon he had set aside for defrosting out for too long.

The **only** redeeming factor about this mall was its art supplies shop. _Artist__'__s Corner _was a store that was half as huge as the supermarket in the ground floor. It specially catered to artists of all art forms and mediums. It even had scrapbooking materials of all kinds. Upon entering, the shop already overwhelms one's senses with the scent of paints and wooden frames.

Feliciano found the smell to be addicting, to be honest. N-Not that he was getting high off of the paint fumes, or anything! These were canvas paints, after all! Not house paint~! That would be _ridiculous!_

He grabbed a cart and immediately bounded towards the nook with different canvasses. Feliciano had been here so many times, if they didn't have the apartment, he would've considered this to be his second home.

Within minutes, Feliciano had filled the cart with all he'd need for the meantime~

Lovino eventually showed up from walking around with a Moleskine journal in hand. He placed it on the conveyor belt at the check out counter and paid for everything.

Then they went home.

* * *

"Say," Antonio starts, looking up from his laptop. "Why is Lovino so angry all the time?" He glances at his two flatmates in curiosity.

Gilbert rolls his carmine eyes, his attention primarily focussed on the PSP in his pale hands as he lounged on the plush black leather couch. "The hell if I'd know, _mein Freund_. That kid's always had a yardstick shoved up his ass." He smashed a few more buttons before adding, "I don't think I've ever seen him genuinely smile. His brother's _way _better. Cuter, too."

Francis sets his manuscript down on the dining table, making his way to the kitchenette to retrieve a bottle of red wine, silently observing the exchange taking place before him.

"He writes a lot, _si_?" Toni asks, typing a few keys on his keyboard before reaching for his notebook in his backpack on the floor beside the recliner. Gilbert shrugs his shoulders.

"Yes, he's taking up creative writing," Francis speaks up, reaching for a wine glass in one of the cupboards. He uncorks the bottle of wine and pours some into the glass.

"What does he write about?" Antoine queries.

The blond takes a small sip of his drink before setting the bottle down atop one of the marble counters. "I can't say for sure about what, _mon ami_," he answers honestly.

"He probably just writes about how he hates everyone on the face of the planet," Gilbert mused. "_Gott_, he's such a whiny bitch."

Cerulean blue eyes glance up at the Spaniard. "Why are you so curious about him, anyway, Antoine?"

Antonio catches Francis' eye. He shrugs his shoulders in indifference, "I don't know. I just am, I guess. He's angry twenty-four-seven, so there _has _to be a reason or something behind it, right?"

The Frenchman gives him an enigmatic smile. "…But of course."

* * *

"Ve~ Lovi?" Feliciano's voice pipes up from the living room.

"Hmm?" Lovino hums in response, finishing up with prepping the salmon on the chopping board before him.

"What do you think of Luddy?"

Lovino's mind blanked out for a second. "What?"

"Y'know… Ludwig? The blond guy. The one you met That Day In The Diner. I call him Luddy."

"…Who the fuck is he?" Lovino asks, setting one serving onto the pan to be seared. He turns the heat up.

"He's a friend of mine and Kiku's! He's super smart and he's taking engineering at Evergreen Hollows, too~"

"So? You think I give a shit?"

"I just—" Feliciano came into view, leaning over the island counter. He glances down at his clasped hands and sighs. "No. You probably don't." He slowly nods to himself, smiling sombrely. "He's nice, you know?"

The older Vargas brother alternating between making the pesto and the pan-seared salmon glanced up at Feliciano, hazel eyes narrowed slightly. "Your point is..?"

"I don't know. I just wanted to… start a conversation~!" A tense silence falls over them before the younger twin is the first to break it. "You've been kind of distant lately," Feliciano blurted out. "And quiet. Really quiet. And I've been worried. Really worried."

Another pregnant silence engulfs the room, save for the occasional sound of the salmon sizzling on the pan, or Lovino stirring the pesto around on the shallow pot.

Just as the latter was going to speak, Feli had cut him off. "You know… If there's _any_thing going on, you know you can talk to me, right—"

"Yeah, but I'm fine." Lovino finally interjects, searing the other side of the salmon. He turns the heat for the pesto off. "Nothing's… 'going on', so don't— don't worry about me."

"You worry about _me_ though,"

"Yeah, why shouldn't I? You're my little brother—"

"_Si_, but by _twenty minutes_! An age difference of _twenty minutes _doesn't mean I can't be concerned about you, too!"

Lovino set the pesto spoon down a bit too harshly. He whipped around to face his _fratellino_, arms crossed over his chest as he glared at his brother in irritation. "What _is _there to be concerned about? Look at me," he flourished his arms before himself, "I'm _fine_. F-I-N-E, _fine_. God, Feliciano, why do you have to make such a big deal out of nothing?"

Albeit his façade of supposed indifference, the older Vargas brother's heart was beating rapidly against his chest. Guilt seized his being. What if… What if Feliciano _knew_?

About the noose under his bed, about the bucket list.

About how he was one step closer to his own undoing with every item on that list that he was to cross out.

About the thoughts that have been running rampant in his head lately.

Dangerous thoughts.

_Dio_, what if they shared some unspoken Telepathic Twin Connection or something only Feliciano picked up on? He could barely hide anything from his twin as it is. Ironically, unbeknownst to him, all the colour had been drained from his face on display for his _fratello _to see.

Lovino turned around and resumed cooking. "This conversation is over."

Feliciano wanted to continue pressing Lovi for answers, he really did, but seeing his brother suddenly grow _pallid _like that had **(terrified him)** been a clear warning to not pursue the topic further.

At least… not right now. Not yet.

**(Not until Feliciano was _sure _he himself could take it.)**

* * *

The next morning, Antonio found himself in front of the Vargas brothers' apartment block again.

This time, he had brought chocolates instead of flowers.

He, of course, gave them to Feliciano.

Lovino made no move to stop him.

Antonio wondered why.

* * *

**Translations:**

_fratello _\- brother (It.)  
_nonno _\- grandfather (It.)  
_idiota _\- idiot (It.)  
_fratellino _\- younger brother (It.)  
_si _\- yes (It./Esp.)  
_Dio _\- God (It.)  
_mein Freund _\- my friend (Dt.)  
_mon ami _\- my friend (Fr.)  
_Gott _\- God (Dt.)

**I got writer****'****s block for this chapter. I hope it wasn****'****t evident, but I think it is. I****'****m trying so hard right now not to denigrate my work since doubting myself and my capabilities as a writer has the tendency to make my writing overthought-out and terrible since I just become this paranoid parrot and I dissect each and every part of my writing until there****'****s nothing left for me to be happy with.**

**I guess my negative vibes affected this chapter, and now, everything****'****s just **_**sad **_**in a pathetic way. I don****'****t want this story to be entirely emo or depressing, albeit the fact that the main plot point of the entire fic circulates around death, or at least, the underlying promise of it.**

**But **_**any**_**ways, have this fanfiction writing tip from Lovino~! To lighten things up a bit~!**

_**Fanfic tip #1:**_

When writing steamy, hot bathroom sex scenes for your gay OTP, _Dio_, for realness' sake, **NEVER** use shampoo or soap as lube, dammit! Because that shit STINGS LIKE A MOTHERFUCKER. SOAPS ARE **NOT** SUPPOSED TO GO INTO YOUR BUTTHOLE BC IT WILL LEAVE YOU FUCKING _WRITHING _AND CURLED UP _WEEPING_ IN A FOETAL POSITION ON THE BATHROOM FLOOR LIKE THE PUSSY YOU PROBABLY ARE, QUITE POSSIBLY KILLING 'THE MOOD'.

…S-So yeah. Use something along the lines of body oil, KY jelly, or maybe even aCTUAL LUBE for fucking… oh, God— 'o-_optimal_' results or something, capisce?

_Chigi!_ S-Stop looking at me like that, dammit!

**Review, **_**por favor**_**~!**

**~jellydonut16~**

**P.S. Thanks so much for all the feedback~**

**P.P.S. The PAS****' ****trips to different strategic parts of the country are actually based on my college****'****s trips overseas in real life, so I****'****m gonna base majority of the #collegelyfe stuff on my own (limited) experience~**

**P.P.P.S. Sam Smith is amazing. That is all.**


	8. eight

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_**Kicking the Bucket List**_

**eight**

"_**You write so  
**__**beautifully, the  
**__**inside of your  
**__**mind must be a  
**__**terrifying place.**_**"  
**—**Unknown**

It was a Tuesday morning when Lovino discovered he had a new fear. Though, to be honest, it was more on _newfound _than it was new.

So it started with Lovino's first class of the day. Intro to Creative Writing. He got there on time, he took his seat in the back of the room, and he had his assignment already in his black portfolio.

Five minutes to nine, Professor Sharp arrived, a huge stack of books and papers in her arms. She set it down on her desk with a hint of difficulty before waiting for the rest of the class to arrive.

And, finally, it's nine o' clock. She claps her hands together— _clap! clap!_— and everyone's attention is immediately focussed on her. It cuts through the low buzz of chatter, and within seconds, the room is silent.

"Good morning, everyone. I take it you've all had a busy first week. Hopefully, yesterday did not suck. Then again, Mondays are always rough, so," she shrugs her shoulders. "Yeah. Okay, I take it you all have your assignments with you, yes?"

Several people automatically nod in affirmation.

Lovino reaches for his black portfolio, which he had haphazardly shoved inside his backpack when he'd taken his seat.

Professor Sharp continues speaking. "Alright, so our game plan for today is to split up in groups of five," She raises her hand up, thumb folded into her palm. "And there'll be four groups, since there are twenty of us."

"This course will primarily consist of workshops. Attendance is of the utmost importance, so please refrain from missing classes. I'll give you all the heads-up a week before the workshop starts, so you can all prepare your work, which I will elaborate further later. But, as for now, in your groups, each one of you will read your work before the others so they can give their creative feedback, and vice versa."

_Cosa?_

Lovino suddenly felt his stomach lurch at the prospect. He swallowed this lump that had formed in the back of his throat as his heart began to palpitate.

"As a writer, one must know how to accept constructive criticism from not only superiors, but from those around him. But one must also know how to critique others in order to help them grow, and, I guess, as a way to make sure you know what you're talking about. View it as a form of give and take. Understood?"

And so, Professor Sharp divided the class into four groups of five people. Lovino still couldn't shake of the feeling of queasiness as he stood up and languidly made his way to the cenacle located in the front of the class.

No one seated spared him a glance.

They were all acquainted. No wonder.

He felt kind of really awkward and out-of-place as he sat in their group. They were animatedly discussing the life works of Edgar Allan Poe. Admittedly, a topic Lovino couldn't really, uh… talk about. He wasn't particularly familiar with… a lot of literary forms, he was sad to say.

He just— _Dio_, he just _wrote_.

Loads and loads.

A-As a way of expressing himself.

And, admittedly, he didn't read as much as he would like.

M-Maybe taking this course wasn't such a great idea, d-dammit…

God, why did he have to be such a n00b? All of them are probably, like, fucking book zealots or something, singing the praises of books he's never heard of by writers he never knew existed.

Yep. It was that bad.

_I__'__m fucked, _he thinks to himself, beginning to jog his left foot out of nervousness.

He fidgeted in his seat, his discomfort speaking volumes in the group. The others caught wind of the Italian's agitation, but didn't know what to say.

They expected someone else to start talking to the kid, introduce themselves and the rest of them, but no one stepped up to the plate.

He watched as they pulled out their work without a trace of nervousness or hesitance. Why couldn't he do the same?

His hand couldn't help but tremble as he retrieved the portfolio from his bag and pulled out the computerised and printed version of his work out and set it down on the desk.

Immediately, the girl beside him began to read hers.

His gut wrenched, his hands were clammy, and his heart was beating against his chest _so_ hard, he half expected it to burst out of his chest. He just— he just couldn't focus on her words, no matter how much he wanted to; needed to.

He licks his lips, pressing them together into a grim line.

…Fine. Fucking confession time.

Truth be told, he has _never _shown his literary work to anyone else before. Fucking _ever_.

_**EVER.**_

Sure, he's submitted essays and reports, and shit, but this? Something that is a product of the inner workings of his chaotic mind?

No.

Fuck, no.

Even _Feliciano _hasn't gotten to read his writing before. _Dio_, when Lovino said he wanted to take creative writing in college, _Nonno _looked at him like he had _two fucking heads_.

Although Lovino knew his professor would be the one to read and critique his writing—that was inevitable— he hadn't had the _slightest _goddamn clue that his classmates would be criticising his work.

For fuck's sake, he _knows _he should just 'get over it', but it's not that fucking easy, dammit!

He just— he didn't want them to read his work. He didn't want to know all of the flaws in his writing pointed out to him, not when he's already so aware of the flaws he possesses as a person. Doing so would, in his opinion, would shatter the one thing he's found his faith in doing.

But that was ironic. Hypocritical, even.

He knows the deal. He knows how it's supposed to go. You're going to be judged. Your work will be put under some metaphorical microscope of some critic who may or may not be too hard on you. It'll either break your spirit, or motivate you to better yourself.

You will be knocked down, but out of necessity, you will _need_ to get your shit together again, step the fuck back, and look at where you dun goof'd. And it'll be the hardest goddamn thing you have _ever_ done in your life.

Lovino _knows _all of that.

He _wants _to better himself, _yes_— dammit, what kind of writer _doesn__'__t_?— but… b-but it's just so… eurgh.

It's— It's complicated…

It may seem like some sort of half-assed bullshit excuse, but it's true!

A-And it sucks because he knows that the one thing holding him back is himself.

He is his own greatest critic. But he isn't even sure if he can handle the heat.

By the time he finally breaks free from his thoughts, he girl beside him is halfway done speaking. Lovino finds himself over-analysing her words too much to the point where he hadn't gotten any of the heart of the substance in her work.

And, in the end, he had nothing of worthy substance to say regarding what she'd written.

One by one, the others begin to share their thoughts on the piece. When it's Lovino's turn, he doesn't realise it immediately, but he does when all of their eyes fall on him.

He clears his throat, straightening up on his seat. "I think it was, uh… nice."

"'Nice'?" Another girl, she's sitting directly in front of him right now, echoes in a nasal, condescending tone. "Just 'nice'? Her words were light. Eloquent. Feminine. Her words had a melody to them akin a song. And all you have to say is 'nice'? Were you _even _listening—"

Just as Lovino was about to retort, the girl whose work was being discussed cut him off, "Hey! Don't be so mean to him, Liv. Not everyone is a pro like you," the girl turns to face him. She has two blond pigtails and big blue eyes. Girl next door vibes. She smiles at him reassuringly. "Thanks."

For her sake, he tries not to scowl (too much). "…Tch. Whatever."

Lovino makes sure to pay more attention this time. The person beside Pigtails is fully decked in washed-up hair metal frontman garb. He has fluorescent pink hair in a sloppy mop that reminds Lovino of plastic lawn flamingoes, ghastly pale skin, and a fuckton of piercings and crappy, generic tattoos.

_His hair clashes with his clothes, _Lovino absently notes, eyeing the neon green cutoff on the man's lanky form he wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole. Briefly, he wonders if he'd ever sink that low if he went off the deep end. On another note, Lovino guessed that there were a lot of eccentric characters in EHU. International community, after all.

Highlighter Bastard then recalls the night he went to the cemetery alone at night to visit his deceased mother, who succumbed to leukaemia several months ago.

(Out of guilt, Lovino drops the 'Bastard' from his moniker and calls him Highlighter instead.)

Highlighter's writing is sad and haunting. It's evident that he hasn't healed from his mother's passing yet with the brevity of his words, the way he spoke of her as if she were still there with him. Lovino tried to feel the sadness culminating within him from the very depths of his soul, but… he just couldn't summon it. Not truly. He felt bad for her and for Highlighter, yes, but the sympathy he feels can never match the sorrow Highlighter is experiencing at the moment.

Albeit the fact that he's lost his parents, it was at a young age, and it had no significant psychologically traumatising impact on him whatsoever. Honestly.

So he just can't relate.

Next is Liv the Shitstain's turn to read. It's hard to focus on someone's writing when that someone was a snarky bitch you wanted to strangle, _ragazza _or not.

Lovino shook the thoughts out of his head._ No. Nope. No. No thoughts of strangling anybody, dammit!_

Shitstain was actually decent at writing. (More than decent, actually, but y-you didn't hear that from him, okay?) Her writing was good enough to make you feel like you were actually with her in the Starbucks near the campus. That was her location of choice.

He guessed that she was what most people would call a seasoned writer. Thing is, she _knew _she was good, so she acted like she was pretty damn entitled.

Maybe she is.

Either way, Lovino didn't give a shit.

…B-Because it was his turn pretty soon. One more person, and it'll be him being put on the stands next.

_Dio_, why did it feel like Judgment Day? Did— Did the room suddenly grow smaller or something? Because he found it hard to breathe.

Glancing down at the paper in his hands, he found himself rereading his work over again and suddenly, it all became insubstantial.

It didn't seem good enough anymore.

These people… were better than him. _Loads _better than him. They had the passion for literature, and he didn't.

A-All he did was write, and even then, he wasn't— wasn't good enough.

If there was one thing he could do well, it was to fuck things up.

Suddenly, it's his turn now. Everyone's staring at him again.

He gulps, reaching for the paper and raising it up with shaky hands. All the words suddenly seem like blurry blotches of black ink, and he gives a small shake of the head. "I can't— I can't do this." He whispers more to himself than to them.

"Will you _hurry up_—" Shitstain starts before Lovino snaps and cuts her off.

"_Per l__'__amore di Dio_, will you give me a _goddamn minute_?" He orders more than he asks.

Pigtails places a hand on his arm and leans in closer to him. "Hey, are you feeling okay?"

He inwardly rolls his eyes in exasperation. _Why does everyone keep on asking me about my fucking wellbeing__? No fucking shit, _idiota_, not when you have panic attacks every other day!_

"I'm fine," he answers automatically. He pauses, takes a breath and continues talking. "I just— I've never let anyone read my writing before. Okay? So just give me a minute, dammit."

"Is everything alright?" Professor Sharp asks, startling the flustered Italian.

"Fine." The latter reiterates, running a hand through his hair.

"He's never shown anyone his writing before," Pigtails spills simultaneously. Lovino gives her a horrified look.

The professor's eyes widen in surprise. "Really? Wow. Let us hear it then! You have nothing to be afraid of."

Lovino raises an index finger up. _Just a minute, _his hazel eyes say. His erratic, shallow breathing slows into steady breaths.

Several seconds pass and he begins to read, often stuttering over some of his words. Professor Sharp is looming behind him, grey eyes examining his paper as he read it out for the rest of his group to hear.

When he's done, Shitstain is the first to speak, her tone sharp and condemning as she pontificated, "I feel like you've missed the _entire _point of the essay. Sure. You were on point for the _first _few lines, but it just fucking _strayed _and deviated way off track, so… Try working on that. Stay on point. Know what you're writing about."

He glanced down at his paper. She had a point. His heart sunk to the bottom of his stomach.

Pigtails spoke next, "Personally, I think it was really, really nice! It's like there was this build-up going on, and continually, it culminated until it reached this zenith and became like this sort of poem-y song. It just had this rhythm that pulled you in, since it had some lyrical qualities. It's great."

Upon hearing her review, he felt a smidgen bit better. Like, _maybe_, he wasn't a lost cause.

The guy seated beside him, Stripes, because he was wearing a striped t-shirt, piped up, "I kind of agree with Beth and Liv. You kind of strayed from the topic, but the end product was nice. Philosophical. You make really nice analogies."

Lovino nodded, feeling a bit more hopeful. Highlighter was the last to give his critique.

"I think it was good. Really good. I just— can I have that?" He reached forward, motioned for the paper in Lovino's hand. Reluctantly, the Italian handed it over to him. "Thanks— I feel like I can read this over and over and over again and not get bored or fed up with it very easily. That's quite a feat, in my opinion, since I can read a passage once or twice, and never bother with it ever again. I feel bad for you though. It sucks feeling like you're not good enough."

"Thanks." Lovino says. Highlighter hands him his paper back and the Italian takes it. Quickly, Lovino turns to face the professor, but she's already at a different group.

The discussions end, and everyone goes back to their seats. Professor Sharp continues talking about the previous topic of the importance of workshops, and elaborates a little bit more on what she'll be expecting from them.

Lovino has to write a story.

It was a _no shit _moment since, yeah, he's taking up creative writing. Still, he wasn't quite sure of himself. He doesn't know if he can pull through. He needs something to awaken his muse.

At the end of the class, Professor Sharp has everyone hand in their assignments. Lovino, being in the back of the room, is the last one to submit his, setting it atop the stack of essays.

"You did good, Lovino." She tells him, pulling the pile of miscellaneous books and papers into her arms. She smiles. He nods in response. Then he returns to his seat to grab his backpack.

* * *

As Jacqueline Sharp exited the classroom, Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo had spotted her (and the huge stack of papers in her arms) and made his way over to her.

"_Hola_, Ms. Sharp~ Let me help you with that, _si_?"

Jacqueline turned to him, smiling gratefully. "Thanks, Toni. You know you can always call me Jackie, right?" She deposited a few inches' worth of the stack into his tan arms.

He looked sheepish, "_Lo siento_, but I just feel like it's better to call you 'Miss' since you're a professor here and I'm just a student. Even though you dated _mi hermano_ and all,"

Lovino Vargas exited the room, backpack slung over one shoulder. He brushed past them, but not before sending Antonio a habitual glare, a scowl present on his face.

Antonio rolled his eyes in exasperation as Lovino's shoulder roughly brushed against his.

Jacqueline raised an eyebrow at the two before turning to the Spaniard. "C'mon, let's walk."

And so they did. They walked in silence for several seconds before she spoke up. "How've you been?"

Toni laughed, "I've been good. Great, actually. It's nice to have something to do again."

"You'll regret saying that by the time midterms come rolling in," she says, shifting the pile in her arms.

"You, though?"

She slowly nods, "I've been good as well. How's your mom?"

Antonio smiles sadly. "Ah, she, uh— she's been better. Basically. I hope I can visit her soon."

"Yeah… I should really drop by sometime. I'll be honest with you, I think I miss your mom more than I miss your brother."

They laugh.

Antonio's eyes inadvertently flicker down to the stack of books and papers he's holding. There's an essay at the very top. He takes a glance at the name and his eyes can't help but widen.

**Lovino Romano Vargas**

…Oh.

Oh, this is _good_.

An uncharacteristically smug smirk appears on his face as he internally shakes his head in disbelief. Finally, a gist of whatever Lovino is writing.

He expected something somewhat satirical. Something with a _lot _of expletives and, perhaps, graphic violence. But what he got was something much more different.

**It****'****s a Tuesday afternoon as I write this on my notebook. I****'****m sitting on an aged wooden bench by the gardens in Evergreen Hollows****— ****the one everyone just seems to overlook amidst all the happenings in their lives. And in turn, the garden overlooks the forest in which I have yet to venture. The view is absolutely breathtaking. The garden and the forest are one and the same, yet they are completely opposite.**

**The garden is stunning. The magnolias and roses are in full bloom, and its fragrance saturates the cool air around me. And, sadly, that****'****s pretty much all I can visibly identify in my limited knowledge of flora. Though its growth is limited and it is controlled, it ends up so very beautiful.**

**Everyone admires the gardens.**

**The forest is lush, mysterious, and free to grow however, though many never see the beauty in its natural chaos. They fear it. People are afraid of things they don****'****t know, and thus, shun them out. Things that are completely foreign to an individual. Some embrace it, though, but that is a rarity compared to people who don****'****t.**

**I glance up at the sky above me, a sigh escaping my lips. It really is just so enchanting here. How long has it been since I****'****ve taken a moment once in my life to take a breather, admire the sky, and **_**literally **_**smell the roses?**

**I don****'****t think I have. **_**Ever**_**.**

**I sit here, overwhelmed by the brilliant shades of orange and scarlet slowly fading into calmer****— ****but just as beautiful, nonetheless****— ****tones of purple and cerulean. The sun and moon are both visible, and I am enthralled to see all the stars in the sky, though they do not shine as bright.**

**Glancing up over the horizon, the blue melts over the tops of the numerous pine trees in the forest.**

**Slowly, the dark consumes the light.**

**The view before me makes me happy, yet at the same time, it makes me sad. I realised that there was a balance in everything, even in and **_**especially **_**in nature.**

**I saw myself reflected in it.**

**I stop writing for a moment. My hands tremble as I alternate between staring at the words scrawled in the last few rays of the fading sunlight and at everything that surrounds me.**

**And I****'****m thinking to myself, that maybe, perhaps, possibly, **_**I **_**am that forest.**

**I am the darkness.**

**I am the night.**

**I am the stars that don****'****t seem to shine as bright.**

**And if there is darkness, then there must be light.**

**If not, would be the dark be as dark? Would be the light be as light?**

**Ironically, in all of this, I am a twin. My twin is my complete opposite. My counterpart.**

**He is the garden.**

**He is the light.**

**He is the day that is consumed by night.**

**He is the sun that shines over earth, brightly, brilliantly, blazingly.**

**We are like oil and water. Like day and night. We will never be alike, but we need each other.**

**I only wish I could be as bright someday.**

**Bright enough to light up someone****'****s sky.**

**But who could ever love someone who envies the sun?**

"It's nice, isn't it?" A voice pulls Toni's attention away from the words that still seemed to linger in his mind.

He glances at Jacqueline, face flushed at being caught reading something maybe he shouldn't have. "I… uh…"

She nods, urging him on as a smile crept onto her face.

"_Si_," he finally admits. "It's _very _nice."

"You remember the kid that came out and accidentally bumped into you a while ago? He wrote that," she said, a hint of pride in her voice.

"Trust me, that was no accident," was what he wanted to say.

But instead, he went with, "Really?"

She nods, "Yep! He's quiet, though. He rarely talks unless he needs to."

Antonio was perplexed. He glances back down at the last few lines, trying to piece Lovino together. The Lovino _he _knew was really, really mean, talked a lot, and had curses in every other word.

But _this_…

_This_ Lovino. He was more… perceptive? He had a way with words, but did he really feel that way about Feli? If so, why doesn't he try to make himself better, then?

Why did he have to be angry all the time?

But what he wrote… it was quite sad.

Antonio's mind was cluttered with thoughts he couldn't comprehend. He felt as if there were a jumble of jigsaw puzzle pieces in his head, but not of the same puzzle.

He wanted to retort that she didn't know him in real life the way he did, but _this_— the essay— was his work, too, _si_? It's a part of Lovino as well.

Upon receiving no response, Jacqueline continued speaking, "I think that he has a lot of potential. I look forward to seeing more of his work through different literary forms."

Antonio could do nothing but nod, rereading the work over and over again as if it'd give him answers.

But to what?

He was really, really confused right now…

* * *

It was lunchtime right now, so Antonio, as usual, was with his best friends, Francis and Gilbert. They were at the caf this time instead of the diner for a change.

Toni was unusually quiet today. Francis was just about to ask him what was wrong until Feliciano came in with Ludwig and Kiku.

The presence of the cute Italian immediately brought Antonio out of his trance and he grinned at the Frenchman and the self-proclaimed Prussian before standing up and making his way to the trio.

This was Toni trying his hand at wooing the cute little Italian again.

He smoothly sits in the chair beside Feliciano, beaming at him. "_Hola_, Feli! What's up?"

Feli smiles back, pushing his tray of fish fillet back a fraction. "Ve~ Hi Toni! I'm just having lunch with Kiku and Luddy~!"

"Hello, Antonio-san." Kiku says, snapping apart a pair of wooden chopsticks.

Ludwig, whose attention is mainly focussed on the thick textbook in his hands, takes a second to glance up at the Spaniard and nod at him."_Hallo_, Antonio."

"Hi, Kiku. Ludwig." Toni greets, turning a bit more to face Feliciano. _Dios_, he really _is _just _so cute_! A light laugh escapes Antonio's lips as he gently cups the Italian's cheek. "Ahaha~ Feli, you have some paint on your cheek!"

He pulls his hand away, reaches for Feli's water bottle and swipes his thumb over the cool condensation before bringing it to the latter's cheek. He wipes it away, a slight blush on his cheeks at being able to touch the younger Italian without a headbutt or a kick from Feli's irritable older brother.

Just as he pulls his hand away after stroking Feli's cheek for a few moments— "Ve~ Did the paint come off yet?"— Lovino shuffles in the cafeteria, a few books in his arms.

_Dios_, why does everyone seem to have books in their arms today? Is it some kind of unspoken agreement..?

Upon seeing the Spaniard, Lovino's scowl deepens as he slams his books down on the table, startling Kiku and Ludwig.

Antonio's eyes narrow a fraction.

Feliciano ignores the expression on Lovino's face, asking him how his morning went.

The older twin made a noncommittal grunt, rolling his eyes as he sits down on his chair. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and scrolls through the screens in order to find a distraction.

Antonio sits up a bit straighter, peering up at Lovino with curiosity. He's suddenly conscious of the Italian's presence, and it's bugging him.

"Aren't you going to eat, _fratello_?" Feli asks again, genuine worry in his tone. The twins' eyes meet.

"I'll grab something later. Don't worry about me." Lovino mutters, glancing away.

Out of nowhere, a blond girl comes up and wraps her arms around Lovino's neck, leaning in.

"Hi, Lovi~!" She sang, practically smashing her chest against the back of his head.

Antonio gulped, surprised at how apprehensive he suddenly felt. No matter what, he couldn't pull his gaze away from the two, who seemed to be quite intimate with each other.

And again, that bothered him.

Why?

"_Ciao_, Bella," Lovino says in response, an easy-going smile on his lips, all traces of the scowl previously worn on his face having faded away.

_Wow. Lovino looks r-really nice when he smiles. _The Spaniard can't help but think. And for a moment, Antonio finds himself wondering how nice it'd be to make someone as unpleasant as Lovino _smile_. It seemed like an impossible feat, but the blond managed to do it s-so easily!

"Ve~ Hi, Bella!" Feliciano greeted, beaming at her. She greets him back with just as much cheerfulness.

Suddenly, she pulls back a fraction, pouting as she glanced down at Lovino. "Finally. After _all _this time, I see you again. You forgot to give me your number!"

The Spaniard can't help but raise an eyebrow. _Is she his girlfriend or something?_

As unreasonable as it was, he didn't like the idea of Lovino h-having a girlfriend. At _all_. He just— he just didn't. But _why_?

_Why _did he feel this way all of a sudden?

"_Mi dispiace_, I was in a hurry for my first class. I guess it just slipped my mind," he says, hazel eyes softening as he looked at her with tenderness. Antonio couldn't help but gulp.

Lovino, always courteous to the ladies, felt obliged to make it up to her. "How about I make it up to you? Let's go to Starbucks, on me."

A-And there was this smile on Lovino's face that made Antonio's heart skip a beat. _Dios mio._

Lovino should definitely smile more.

Maybe then, people would like him better, _si_?

She began tapping her chin with her index finger in fake contemplation. "Should I? Or should I not?" She pulls away, beaming at him. "Who am I kidding? Let's go~!"

"Great!" Immediately, Lovino stands up and slings his backpack over his shoulder.

Feli wastes no time in expressing his ebullience, jumping up to embrace his brother. "Ve~ You finally have a friend! I'm so happy, Lovi~!"

"Not in fucking public, _idiota_!" Lovino scolds, prying Feliciano's arms off of him. "_Dio_, it's not like it's a fucking miracle or anything, d-dammit,"

And Antonio came to his senses again. _There _was the Lovino he knew again. Yeah. The mean one.

Bella giggles, placing a neatly manicured hand on Lovino's shoulder. He doesn't pry or shrug it away like he did to Feliciano. "Let's go~" she says, sliding her hand down so she can wrap it around his arm.

Lovino was a true gentleman.

"I'll see you around, Fel!" She exclaims, waving at the younger Vargas brother goodbye. Feliciano waves back, bidding them goodbye.

Lovino shoots Antonio a nasty glare before being pulled away by the blond. Once the couple are out of earshot, Toni turns to Feli again.

"Wow. Is she your brother's girlfriend?" He asked, before realising a second later how weird and random it sounded. So he added, "I can't imagine anyone wanting to date your _hermano_. No offence."

There. Sounded better.

Feliciano laughed airily. "Ve~ Of course not! _Fratello__'__s _just like _me _in the terms of preferences."

Antonio was confused. "What?"

It was Feli's turn to be perplexed. _Ve~ Didn__'__t he understand?_

A small sigh escaped his lips before he gave Toni a smile. "We both like men, Toni~ Which is ironic because our _Nonno _is a _huge _ladies' man~!"

But Antonio didn't catch that last part. Because he was too busy letting out a long breath he hadn't known he was even holding in. W-Why did he feel… _relieved_?

After a few more moments of contemplation and coming up with nothing, he shrugged those thoughts out of his head and redirected his attention to Feliciano again.

He really is so adorable~!

* * *

**Translations:**

_cosa _\- what (It.)  
_Dio_ \- God (It.)  
_nonno _\- grandfather (It.)  
_ragazza _\- female (It.)  
_per l__'__amore di Dio _\- for the love of God (It.)  
_idiota _\- idiot (It.)  
_hola _\- hello (Esp.)  
_si _\- yes (It./Esp.)  
_lo siento _\- I'm sorry (Esp.)  
_mi hermano _\- my brother (Esp.)  
_hallo _\- hello (Dt.)  
_Dios _\- God (Esp.)  
_fratello _\- brother (It.)  
_ciao _\- hello (It.)  
_mi dispiace _\- forgive me (It.)  
_Dios mio _\- oh my God (Esp.)

**Belated Merry Christmas, folks! This is my present to you guys for being awesome! Whoa~ Five thousand words, where did **_**those **_**come from?**

**Review, **_**por favor**_**~!**

**~jellydonut16~**

**P.S. Have a happy new year, too! Finally, the Spamano kinda commences!**


	9. nine

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

**_Kicking the Bucket List_**

**nine**

**"_I__'__ve tried to reason,  
_****_I__'__m trying to see.  
_****_Why can__'__t you imagine  
_****_a successful me?_"  
****— _Bring It On _by Light Up The Sky**

"So basically, the PAS will be having a general assembly next week where the seniors will be picking out the underclassmen they want to assist them in their play, which is also their final project," Bella says, scooping whipped cream out of her coffee jelly frappé using the end of her straw. She pops it in her mouth before setting it back into the cup. "Aren't you _excited_, Lovi?"

"Hmm?" Lovino hums distractedly as he looks out of the window.

Bella's icy green eyes glance up at him, surprised to see the unmistakeable blush on his face. A feline smile crept onto her lips as she follows his line of sight. There were two guys just outside the Starbucks, a brunette and a redhead currently engrossed in a conversation.

_Which one is it? _She thinks to herself, taking a second to revel in Lovino's flushed face. As she glances out the window, the brunette walks away, yet the redhead stands. The Italian's eyes are still trained on the latter.

Said redhead turns around, and instantly, she recognises him as Allistor Kirkland, a senior taking Performing Arts. She's heard a lot about him through the upperclassmen she befriended during the general assembly last week.

Apparently, he had a lot of potential as a play director. The professors adore him because he had a unique perspective on things which truly brought the plays he's directed alive. There's speculation that if Allistor focussed his talents on directing films, he could possibly be the next Spielberg, and _that__'__s _saying a lot.

"Ooh~ He's kinda cute~" She coos, eyeing Lovino suggestively, all the whilst wriggling her eyebrows.

His eyes meet hers as his face reddens even more. He glances down in effort to conceal his face, "S-Shut up. You don't know what you're talking about, d-dammit! Plus, I— I don't even _know _the bastard."

"Right," the Belgian drawls. She was going to continue teasing him about it, but then— _'__IF YOU WANNA BE MY LOVER, YOU GOTTA GET WITH MY FRIENDS__'_— her phone went off.

"The fuck..?" Lovino mouths, glancing up at her as she rummages through her Louis Vuitton handbag. She pulls her phone out of the bag and holds it to her ear.

"Hello?" She greets, listening intently. "Ooh~!" she exclaims after several seconds, leaning across the low coffee table to tap Lovino's knee. His eyes met hers inquisitively. "Lovi, can the rest of our friends come here?"

His eyes widened as his eyebrows shot up. _Che cosa? __'_**_Our_**_' _friends?

"Please?" She pleads, pouting at him.

The Italian ensconced himself further in the armchair, rolling his eyes as he shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, whatever, dammit."

"Oh my gosh. Come here ASAP! We'll be waiting for you~!" She exclaims, straightening up in her seat. "Toodles~!"

And it was at that moment where Lovino's jaw just went slack. Bella was really radiating _Legally Blonde _vibes right now. Where the fuck did that come from? "'Toodles'?" He echoes, expression incredulous. "Fucking _'__toodles__'_? What _happened_ to you over summer break?"

A laugh escapes her lips.

"Really, Bella, _just _when I thought you couldn't get any girlier…" Lovino rants, only to trail off when Allistor walks in. His face darkens fifty shades of red as he presses his lips together and glances down at his hands again.

"Lovino," she says, secretly devising a plan for a 'Chance Encounter'.

"What, dammit?" He asks, face-palming himself in effort to hide his face.

"Lovi~" Bella says again, her tone beckoning his attention. A sigh escapes his lips. After a second or two, he forces himself to meet her gaze. "Can you get me a bagel? Like, with cream cheese?"

His hazel eyes flicker over to the redhead's form before they flicker back to the Belgian's icy green eyes. "How about no?"

"Please? With cherries and sprinkles on top?" She asks again, this time with a tinge of urgency in her tone.

"I'll get it in a minute, dammit," he grumbles, rolling his eyes.

She glances up at the senior, who is currently ordering his caffeine fix.

…O mijn God. _What if he leaves and he and Lovino never get to talk?!_

_Fast! Need to act fast!_

And just like _that_, Bella's calm, collected composure crumbled into bits and pieces.

Just like the croissant Lovino bought her earlier. Oops~?

Immediately, she stands up and totters over to Lovino in her gold Jimmy Choo pumps, tugging at his black jacket sleeve. "Get up and get me my bagel!" She half-shrieks, desperately trying to pull him up.

Everyone's attention is suddenly focussed on the pair as the sweet-looking Belgian girl frantically shakes the panicking Italian back and forth.

"_Che cazzo stai facendo_?!" He demanded, inadvertently slipping into his native tongue.

"Get me a bagel!" She urges, her expression borderline corybantic.

"_Che cosa__—_"

"_Bagel_!"

"_Sei gi__à __in piedi! __È __possibile ottenere il vostro _bagel_, dannazione!_"

"I don't understand Italian!" She manages to haul him half-way up. "Get the bagel before he leaves!"

He blanks out for a second, two seconds…

…And realisation slaps him in the face.

"_Merda_, I should've _known_!" He manages to exclaim in English, his expression scandalised.

It is then when finally, the silence settles in and the pair take notice of the (not-so) sudden silence and grow wary of the eyes of everyone in the café focussed on them.

"Holy fucking shit—" Lovino curses under his breath, face flushing bright red in embarrassment and shame. He face-palms himself, sinking back down in his seat. "Oh my God."

"Nothing to see here, people!" Bella says, sheepishly waving her hands before her. "Nothing to see! Carry on now~!"

"Oh my God," He reiterates. Just as he's about to commence his jeremiad, _Allistor _saunters up to them, coffee in hand and all.

"'Ello, Lovino." He says, smiling at the Italian, whose heart skips a beat. Shit.

Bella's eyes widen in pleasant surprise. They _know _each other already?!

"Hi, Ah'm Allistor," the redhead greets, giving the Belgian a curt nod. They shake hands.

"Hi, I'm Bella. Lovino's friend," she greets back before observing the spectacle before her. Bible (AKA 'swear to God'), if _Elizabeta _were here, she would _freak_. _Out_.

This kinda stuff is what she pretty much _lives_ for.

On a sidenote, is _this _what it's like to be a wingman? Wing… woman?

"Sorry, I— I had a moment." She says, waving what had happened aside. "I just need to go to the powder room for a second. Collect myself and all."

"Oh. Righ'." Allistor concurs, gesturing to the comfort room situated in the back of the café. "It's over there—"

Bella laughs. But it's one of those obnoxiously fake shrilly laughs that made shivers slither down Lovino's spine as he internally cringed. Fuck. "Yeah! Yeah! I'll go now! Because, I'll tell you, mister," she resignedly puts her hands on her hips, determinedly nodding her head. "I was just, like— overwhelmed with the, er, bagel feels? You know what I mean."

"U-Uh. Yeah. Sure." The redhead says, feeling absolutely nonplussed.

"Yep! I'll go now! And _you stay here _and—"

"Bella, what are you doing—" it was Lovino speaking now, pulling his face away from his hand.

"—You _talk _with Lovino, okay? Okay~!" And with that, she f-fucking _trots _to the comfort room, probably feeling satisfied as fuck with herself right now.

Shit, fuck, dammit— _argh_!

"…Okay." Allistor says slowly, taking Bella's seat opposite the blushing Italian. "Yer friend is quite th' character, if Ah may admit," he comments, setting his cup down on the coffee table.

Lovino covers his cheeks with his hand, hoping his blushing wasn't evident. Dammit, _why _did he have to be like this?! _Why?! _"Y-Yeah," he mutters. "I should probably keep her away from the coffee jelly next time."

Wait, what the fuck?

What did he just say?

Did that even make any goddamn sense?

Allistor hums in agreement. "So. 'Ow've yeh been? Yeh feelin' any better yet?"

"I-I'm fine, dammit…" Lovino chokes out.

"Oh? Tha's good." the redhead says, smiling at the Italian. And like a Subway sandwich, Lovino made like an Italian melt. Allistor groans, leaning back in the armchair. "Ah am _proper knackered _righ' now. Ah spent all nigh' 'elping me best mate, Oliver, do some last minute revisions on our script. E's a screenwriter, yeh see. So caffeine," he lifts his cup up before setting it back down. "'As basically become me lifeline righ' now. Ah go frae 'ome ta campus wif several stops ta Starbucks in between. Very unhealthy, innit?"

A small smirk creeps onto Lovino's face. "Yeah." He takes a deep breath and continues speaking. "B-But you just— you just started fourth year, d-dammit; how could it be so hectic now?"

Allistor gives the brunette a sheepish smile that makes the latter's stomach a-all fucking f-_fluttery _and s-shit… _Dio_, this is so gay.

"Fing is, Ah'm kind of… pretentious an' meticulous? when i' comes to me work, so… Ah tend ta work on these things righ' away so Ah can get i' th' way Ah want i' ta be by th' time th' end of th' year comes rollin' in. Ah've a flair for th' dramatic." The redhead winces. "An' Ah guess Ah'm a bi' of a perfectionist."

Lovino didn't exactly know how to respond to that, so he was careful with his choice of words. "I… think that no one can be 'a bit' of a perfectionist. It's either you are or you aren't, b-because…" he gulps, looking down at his hands.

Allistor leans in a fraction, as if urging him to continue.

"…if w-what you want is perfection, then there can never be just 'a bit' of it. You h-_have_ to have it all— _n-not _that it makes you _greedy_, dammit—"

"No, Ah understand," the redhead interjects, raising his hands up.

For the first time, the Italian glances up at him properly. Their eyes meet, and Allistor takes Lovino's breath away for the umpteenth time.

"Go on," Allistor says, smiling at Lovino encouragingly, those forest green eyes beseeching him.

Subconsciously, the brunette licks his lips. Briefly, he allowed himself the pleasure of drinking in the sight of the Scotsman, wholly transfixed.

"Because," he continues, his breath growing more shallow. "If you don't want it all, don't crave the faultless beyond reason, then you're not a perfectionist."

With perfection personified sitting right before him, it was then when Lovino realised that he was a perfectionist too.

There was a silence heady with_ je ne sais quoi_ before Allistor spoke. "Then Ah guess Ah'm a perfectionist. A full-on perfectionist. Are yeh one as well, Lovino?"

Lovino swallowed this lump that had formed in the back of his throat before responding, "_Si_, I'm a perfectionist too."

* * *

T-There was this… unspoken tension between them that made Lovino fidget underneath his clothing, this torrent of foreign emotions fomenting within his being.

All they did was look at each other dead in the eye, sharing a mutual understanding of something Lovino knew naught of yet.

Suddenly, abruptly— Allistor pulls away and clears his throat before taking a glance down at his watch, eyes resolutely avoiding the Italian's. "Bloody 'ell," he exclaims. "Sorreh, Ah need ta get back ta th' campus now. Oli tends ta get proper stroppy when Ah take too long faffing about."

The redhead stands up, grabbing his caffeine fix. "It were absolutely lovely talking ta yeh. If only we 'ad more time, yeah?" This time, the Scotsman glances up and their eyes meet. Lovino's chest constricted; he found it hard to breathe.

Allistor smiled at him. "Cheers, Lovino. Ah… Ah guess Ah'll see yeh around."

And with that, the redhead walks out of Starbucks and back to campus.

* * *

Within seconds, Bella is back from the comfort station, face flushed in excitement. "Oh my gosh. That was _so cool_!" She fans herself, "Is this what Liz feels too? I make _such _an awesome wingwoman, I swear to God."

"I can_not _believe you just did that." Lovino groans, running a hand through his hair, and an incredulous smile on his face. He _tried _to keep the goofy ass smile off his face, but he just c-_couldn__'__t_. _Dio_, what the fuck's _happening _to him?!

"I know~! I can't either!" Bella exclaims giddily. "But it was _so worth it_."

And no matter what, Lovino can't seem to stop smiling. He just feels so _overwhelmed _with the sudden rush of elatedness and adrenaline. It's weird, a weird type of feeling… but it's— it's _nice_.

W-Was it a good thing..? To feel like this?

He had a hunch he was going to find out, sooner or later.

* * *

"Lovino," Feliks Łukasiewicz says, sashaying in the Starbucks followed by the rest of the squad. Bella's squad. Several people stare at the effeminate Pole in alarm, the latter's voice _clearly_ not matching his feminine physique. "You're looking less sour than usual today~ You're, like, _glowing._"

The aforementioned winced, wryly looking up at the blond. "Hello, Feliks. You're looking," Lovino takes a glance at Feliks' ensemble. An oversized pink cashmere sweater, a black A-line skirt, black thigh-high stockings, and studded Jeffrey Campbell _Lita _boots. O-Okay, then. "…very androgynous today. A-And I'm notfucking _glowing_, dammit!"

The Pole does this sassy hand wave, beaming at the Italian. "Oh, why thank you~! Bel, I'll totally order my coffee now, okay?"

"Yeah, of course~!" Bella says, as the others drag a coffee table and a few chairs to her and Lovino's table.

"Hi, Lovino," Michelle greets, smiling at him.

"Hey," Eliza says, currently engrossed with her camcorder in hand.

He greets them in response. Michelle sighs, rolling her chocolate brown eyes. "Sorry we're late. We had to wait for Liz to finish her homophile reconnaissance before we came here."

"Oh, God. You still spy on people?" Lovino blurts out, eyes widening in faux mortification. "Those poor fucks."

"Hey!" Elizabeta interjects, looking at Lovino pointedly before her eyes glance back down at her camcorder. "I _so _do not _spy _on people! I just take videos and those videos just _happen _to have them wandering into my shot! Plus, it's not like— _oh my God I am shipping this **so **_**_hard_**."

The Italian rolls his eyes, leaning into his seat. "That shit's going to bite you back in the ass one day, I swear to God."

She hums in response, clearly not giving a fuck. "Mhmm. Yeah. I don't really care just as long as it doesn't get in the way of my OTPs." The brunette folds the camcorder shut and shoves it back into her leather messenger bag. "How've you been, though?" She asks, glancing up at the older Vargas brother.

"He has a crush on _mfphm_—!" Bella exclaims, only to have Lovino lean over the table and muffle her mouth with his hand.

"Bella, if you could _please_ shut up, that'd be _fan-_fucking_-tastic_." He grits out, face reddening fifty shades of red.

"Ooh~" Eliza says, grinning deviously at the Belgian. "Who is it? Anyone I know? Spill!"

Michelle laughs before standing up and heading over to the counter to order her drink.

"_Over my dead body_," Lovino grits out, glaring at the Hungarian.

"Oh, don't worry~! I'll find out nonetheless. I have my ways," Liz says, grinning at the frustrated Italian. "So you might as well spill now?"

"Hmm," he hums in mock contemplation. "No."

Elizabeta frowns at him. "No?"

He nods. "No. Also? Fuck you."

"Nice."

Bella pries Lovino's hand off her mouth, shuddering. "Ugh, Lovi…" Just as she's about to speak again, he threateningly raises his hand in warning. Her eyes widen as she leans away from him, subconsciously covering her mouth, "Okay, okay! I won't tell. _Jeez_,"

* * *

Every week, _Nonno _would call the Vargas twins through Skype and video chat with them. It was usually once a week, rarely twice, since _Nonno _was always out and about in the Mediterranean, doing _Dio _knows what.

Today was a Skype Night.

"Ve~ Hi, _Nonno_! I missed you so much!" Feliciano says, beaming at the camera connected to their Samsung Smart TV.

"Ciao_, Feliciano! How was school today, hmm?__"_ _Nonno _coos back, his face taking up the TV screen.

Lovino observed the two from the kitchen, attention mainly focussed on pouring himself a glass of red wine. A scoff escapes his lips as they're tugged upwards into a small smirk.

"It was great~! I had fun painting today. I really, really love this school, _Nonno_! I made new friends, and Lovi's finally made a friend too~!"

_Nonno__'__s _raucous laughter echoes throughout the apartment, making the older Vargas twin wince. _Dio_, can't he keep it the fuck down?!

"_Really?! It__'__s a _miracle_, Feli! Your _fratellone's _finally found friends! _Grazie a Dio_!__"_

"I'm glad~"

"_So, anyways, tell me more about your classes, Feli__…"_

Lovino tunes them out, leaning against the island counter as he takes a small sip of his drink. What happened earlier is still replaying itself inside his head. Over and over and over again.

_Dio_, he felt breathless just _thinking _about it— why did it affect him like this? Like, _physically_?

Is… Is infatuation or love really a feeling so strong, that not _only _does it affect your mental state, but it affects your _physical_ state, too?

Man, that— that is _downright_ _terrifying_. Who the hell would want to put themselves through something like that..? B-But then again, i-it's not like Lovino _wanted _to feel this way. Yet at the same time, he didn't want to _not _feel this way… was that making _any _sense at all?

God… is he fucking _blushing _right now?

Lovino could only blush even harder at the realisation.

...Dammit.

"Ve~ Lovi, _Nonno _wants to talk to you~!" Feliciano says, smiling at his brother. He was _so happy _Lovino wasn't going to be a sad, pathetic loner anymore.

"Yeah, give me a sec," Lovino mumbles, gulping all of his wine down before setting the glass on the counter.

Feli's phone goes off and he immediately answers it, walking to his bedroom. "Ve~ Hi, Toni! What's up?"

The older twin stilled. Feliciano's bedroom door closed behind him with a barely audible _clack_.

…_That perverted fucker._

Lovino had half a mind to rip that phone out of Feliciano's hand and put that Spanish bag of dicks in his fucking place. But _Nonno _was waiting to talk to him, so he decided to spare the Spaniard bastard from his fiery wrath.

For now.

He b-better be grateful as fuck, dammit!

He shuffles into the living room, muttering a stressed out. "_Ciao_, _Nonno_." He wasn't sure if it was only him, but whenever he talked to his grandfather, he just felt this uneasiness and anxiety welling up inside of him. He _dreaded _talking to the old man, mainly because their conversations often revolved around one particular topic…

"_Ah, Lovino. How have you been? Have you been taking care of your _fratellino_?__"_

…Yep.

Lovino feigns indifference as he shrugs his shoulders. "_Si_, I have. And I'm doing fine, I guess."

_Nonno _heartily chortles, _"__Good, good. Always make sure to keep an eye on your brother, alright? He__'__s still too young and far too na__ï__ve; he wears his heart on his sleeve and I don__'__t want him to get heartbroken like your grandfather here has been one too many times,__"_

"Of course."

"_And how are your classes going so far? Can you keep up?__"_

"I'm doing just _fine_ in my classes. And of _course _I can keep up. I graduated from high school with _honours_, if that means anything, dammit."

"_Ah,__" __Nonno _leans away from the camera, inquisitively putting his hand on his chin. _"__What was your course again?__"_

Lovino rolls his eyes. How… typical. "Of _course _you wouldn't remember," he mutters, a hint of bitterness and a tinge of irritation in his tone. "I'm taking up creative writing."

"Si_, _si_— __I remember now.__" _His grandfather's expression suddenly becomes very grave, and briefly, Lovino wonders what the hell's gotten into him. _"__Are you _sure _this was the course you wanted?__"_

Hazel eyes widen in incredulousness as Lovino crosses his arms over his chest. "Tch, isn't it a _bit _too late to ask me that question? And, _yes_, _Nonno_— it is."

"_Then how come I__'__ve never seen any of your work, Lovino?__" __Nonno _asks again, brows furrowing in seriousness.

_Maybe you just never noticed, _Lovino thinks to himself. "It's— It's _complicated_, okay? There are still a few kinks I'm working on right now, I swear to God—"

"_Lovino__… __Wouldn__'__t you have preferred taking up _business _or something instead?__"_

"…Why?" Lovino asks, hackles raised.

His grandfather sighs in exasperation. _"__Because it__'__d be easy to find a job with a business degree__—"_

"Wait, wait, wait, wait—" the older twin interjects. "_You _let Feliciano take art. How is _this _any different?"

The other's chocolate brown eyes widen, _"_Per l'amore di Dio_, Lovino. It__'__s because Feli has the _talent _and the _heart _for it. At the age of eighteen, he__'__s already accomplished so much, so I don__'__t see why not!__"_

…Okay. That kinda stung.

Lovino clenched his fists, gritting his teeth, before glancing up to meet his grandfather's eye. His voice was strangely hushed as he asked this, "And you think I don't?"

_Nonno _rolls his eyes in frustration, _"__How would _I _know, when you__'__ve never even shown me your _writing_ before?! You can only imagine my utmost surprise when you told me this summer you wanted to take up writing in college. For God__'__s sake, Lovino, what do you even write about?!__"_

The older twin's face flushes in irritation, "I— I write about a _lot _of stuff, dammit!"

"_See? You can__'__t even specifically _tell _me what you __'__write__' __about. What are you really doing, Lovino?__"_

"But I _can _write, dammit!" Lovino exclaims as his voice slowly rises in volume. "I even borrowed all these fucking books from the goddamn library so I could fucking _improve _myself—"

"_Language, Lovino,__" _his grandfather warns, eyes narrowing sternly.

But he refuses to pay it any heed. "I'm telling you, I _know how to fucking write_! I'm _perfectly _capable of doing this. Fucking hell— _why won__'__t you believe me_?"

"Dio mio_, Lovino__—" _An incredulous laugh.

That's when the desperation and frustration starts to sink in Lovino's nerves. He could see it so goddamn well in his grandfather's expression that _he _didn't think Lovino could make it. That he wasn't g-_good_ _enough_. _Dio_, _Nonno_ fucking _laughed _like L-Lovino was just a naïve, little kid who wanted to be a superhero and save the world.

Like Lovino was a naïve eighteen year-old who aspired to become someone he could never be.

"You… You think I can't do it, _don__'__t _you? You think I can't make it through this goddamn course—"

"_Stop putting words in my mouth, Lovino__—"_

"Well I can! ...B-But I can see it in your _eyes_, dammit! You don't believe me. You think I will never be good at this shit, but let me tell you: I will prove you the fuck wrong, _Nonno_."

"_Now, Lovino, I__'__m _sure _you__'__ll do well in creative writing, but _I just think _that it would__'__ve been better if you took up _business _or something__…"_

"You've had no qualms about this before—" A frustrated groan. Feliciano finally exits his bedroom and makes his way to the living room. Lovino looks at him before turning back to the TV screen. "I _know _I may not be as good at writing as Feli is at painting, but I _know _I can do this. And I don't give a shit if you don't believe me. Not anymore."

After that, Lovino storms off whilst passing through the kitchen to grab the nearly full bottle of wine atop the counter. He disappears into his bedroom with it, slamming the door loudly behind him.

_Nonno _is fuming and Feliciano is confused. "Ve~ What happened?"

The former shakes his head, jaw clenched in silent rage, _"__I__… __Your brother is__… __Let__'__s just forget about it, _si_?__" _He clears his throat. _"__How are your classes with Theodore Lennox, Feli?__"_

* * *

For the nth time in his life, Lovino realises this:

_It's better to stand alone than to stand with people who hurt you._

* * *

**Translations:**

_che cosa _\- say what (It.)  
_o mijn God _\- oh my God (Dutch)  
_che cazzo stai facendo _\- what the fuck are you doing (It.)  
_sei gi__à __in piedi _\- you're already standing up (It.)  
_è __possibile ottenere il vostro bagel dannazione _\- you get your own bagel, dammit (It.)  
_merda _\- shit (It.)  
_frae _\- from (Scot.)  
_Dio _\- God (It.)  
_si_ \- yes (It.)  
_nonno _\- grandfather (It.)  
_ciao _\- hello (It.)  
_fratellone _\- older brother (It.)  
_grazie a Dio _\- thank God (It.)  
_fratellino _\- younger brother (It.)  
_per l__'__amore di Dio_ \- for the love of God (It.)  
_Dio mio _\- oh my God (It.)

_je ne sais quoi _\- n. A quality that cannot be described or named easily. French term used in English context. Literally means 'I do not know what'.

**Hey everyone~! Sorry for the really delayed update. I tried to finish this before classes started, but it just seemed so rushed and turned out absolutely horrid, and even then, I couldn't finish it in time. So I gave up cramming altogether and redid the last part over again, and I only got to upload it now. I'm totes done now~! I Skyped with the ex-drummer of the band for this chapter's song quote once. _Dio mio_, he was _so freaking _handsome. Eurgh. Anyways, he quit the band so he could focus more on his photography. He takes really nice photos!**

**But I digress.**

**During the conversation between Allistor and Lovino in this chapter, I'm sure you'll have noticed that the word '_perfectionist_' had become very prominent. If you kinda read between the lines of what Lovino said, there's this kind of quasi-subliminal message to it. It was a Freudian slip of some sort, really. If you didn't get the significance of this, I'll explain it to you:**

**According to the dictionary, a perfectionist is defined as '_a person who refuses to accept any standard short of perfection_'.**

**Since Lovino had discovered that he was a perfectionist too, and admitted so to Allistor, it was a way of stating that he didn't want anyone else other than Allistor because he's _perfection personified_.**

**Get it?**

**_Will our clueless Spaniard still stand a chance? ?_**

**DUN DUN DUUUUUN**

**Review, _por favore_~!**

**~jellydonut16~**

**P.S. ERMAHGERD RERVERS. I'm so glad you guys actually _like _this story~! Thank you for all of the follows, favourites and reviews! _Grazie mille_, you guys make my day!**

**P.P.S. This isn't the first time there's been some type of innuendo in this story. *waggles eyebrows***

**P.P.P.S. If it's any consolation, I'm 1.4k words into the next chapter~! :D**


	10. ten

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_**Kicking the Bucket List**_

**ten**

"_**In the chill of your stare, I am painfully lost  
**__**Like a deer in the lights of an oncoming bus.  
**__**For the thrill of your touch, I will shamefully lust  
**__**As you tell me we**__**'**__**re nothing but trouble.**_**"  
**— _**A Love Like War **_**by All Time Low (ft. Vic Fuentes)**

Ah~ It's a wonderful Wednesday morning! Antonio had woken up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed because he had finally gotten Feliciano's number yesterday during lunch~ He got to call him last night as well~! It was _amazing_. He thanked his lucky stars that morning as he made his way down to the Vargas brothers' apartment complex. Things were finally starting to progress with him, and Toni had to make the next move; take the next step.

"_Buenos dias_, Feli~!" Antonio says, beaming at the cute little Italian as the latter walked out of the building. He goes in for The Hug, only to have Lovino step in between them at the last second, angry hazel eyes meeting his.

"Back the fuck up, asshole." The older twin growls out, a scowl hardening his features.

"Aw, Lovi," Feliciano intervenes, grabbing the aforementioned's forearm and tugging at it. "Not so early in the morning!"

Antonio furrowed his brows at this, lips pressed together as he looked into Lovino's eyes, as if searching for something.

After several seconds of intense staring (glaring, on Lovino's part), the latter shrugs Feli's arm off and starts bustling down the sidewalk.

_What__'__s his_ _problem _now_? _The Spaniard found himself wondering. Usually, Lovino would have this tirade of various insults directed towards him, but he was more clipped (and somewhat angrier) this morning.

"Ve~ I'm really sorry about Lovi. He got into an argument with _Nonno_ last night and he's taking it really hard right now." Feli apologises quickly, before speeding up to catch up with Lovino.

Antonio manages to grab Feliciano's hand, tugging at it. "Wait, I got you something!"

"Oh, Toni," Feli begins, only to trail off when Toni lifts his gift up. His honey brown eyes widen in surprise. A teddy bear..? Holding a bowl of pasta? A smile creeps upon Feliciano's face as he takes it from the lovesick Spaniard. _Ve~ Che figata!_

"Oh, wow, _grazie_~!" Feliciano exclaims, hugging the teddy bear to his chest. Antonio laughs at Feli's ebullience, his heart beating a little bit faster.

"You're so cute, Feli!" He exclaims, ruffling the younger Vargas brother's hair as he stepped a little bit closer.

He liked Feliciano.

He really, really, really liked him.

Like, a _lot_.

He's just so _cute_ and _nice _and _perfect_~ Antonio could only hope that one day, Feliciano would return his feelings soon~.

* * *

Antonio had philosophy with Lovino for his first morning class on Wednesdays. After That Day In The Diner last week, Toni made sure to sit far, _far _away from Lovino when he realised they'd be in another class together.

Lovino sat in the back of the room, so Antonio grabbed a seat in front.

But today, since Toni felt bolder than usual, he decided to try and make amends with the grumpy Italian. Emphasis on '**try**'.

"_Hola_, Lovino." Antonio greets upon reaching the brunette. The latter stiffened, his grip on the pen in his hand tightening as he closed his notebook a fraction, as if trying to conceal it from the Spaniard. He lifts his head up to glare at Antonio suspiciously. He says nothing, merely turning back to his notebook to continue writing as his response.

The other gulps before gingerly sitting beside Lovino, setting his backpack on the floor.

Lovino stops writing. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He snippily demands, scowling at the Spaniard. "You don't sit here."

Antonio fakes an amiable smile, "Well, I am now~!"

The Vargas brother's face scrunches up in disgust. "_Why_?"

"Why not?" Toni asks in response.

A deep sigh escapes Lovino's lips before he begins to chuckle darkly. "Real fucking funny, bastard. You and I both know we can't stand each other. If you even think for _one goddamn second _that sucking up to me will _magically _make me _not _hate you, and give you my fucking 'blessing' to date _mio fratello_, then you've got another thing coming, you fucking douche nozzle, because _you are __**wrong as **__**fuck**_."

Ah~ _There _it is. The harangue.

Antonio momentarily inwardly laughed at the word 'harangue'. I-It kinda sounded like… hahahaha~

Little did he know he was actually laughing in real life.

"What the fuck are you laughing at, bastard?" Lovino barks, face flushed in frustration and his eyes narrowed.

"What do you call an ape that likes to complain a lot?" Toni asks, eager to share his joke with someone. Even _if _that someone was Lovino.

The latter gave him a weirded-out look. "What? …Wait, no, what the fuck—"

"_A harangue-utan!_" Antonio exclaims, emerald green eyes widening. "Get it? Because of the word 'harangue' and 'orangutan'?" He pulls away, laughing raucously, as tears ran down his cheeks in rivulets. _Dios mio_.

Lovino couldn't help b-but stare at the Spaniard blankly for several seconds, more nonplussed than anything, before face-palming himself. "Oh my God, that was so lame." His shoulders began to shake with poorly-contained mirth as he buried his face in his hands. "_Dio_, I am so done."

"Y-You're… you're _laughing_!" Antonio points out, eyes wide in astonishment. He felt all f-_fluttery _inside, and kinda proud of himself for making someone like Lovino laugh. Like, _that _was a major accomplishment. He should get a prize or something! People should really make awards for stuff like that~!

"_No, I__'__m not!_" Lovino roars in between his silenced laughter, trying to whack the Spaniard without looking at him, who easily dodged the hit. "…Jesus Christ. 'Harangue-utan'. I— I fucking can't—"

He rubs his face, trying to keep himself from laughing at that Spanish bastard's lame ass joke.

Seriously, it was terrible. That joke was absolutely fucking _terrible_. How the _fuck _could a shitty pun like that get him to fucking _laugh_, dammit?

Antonio could only look at Lovino in slight bewilderment and curiosity as Lovino's cheeks reddened. It wasn't just a tinge of pink, or something like that; his face was becoming _really_, _really __**red**_, _just _like a—

"Tomato!"

Whoops~. Did he just say that out loud..?

In an effort to correct himself, Antonio clears his throat and tries to save face. "You look like a tomato, Lovino~!"

Okay, much better~.

"_What?_" Lovino barks. His voice kinda comes out as shrilly because of his exasperation. Like a twelve year-old on the cusp of puberty or something. "No, I don't! Y-You fucking bastard!"

And his face reddens even more.

Toni's stomach kinda begins to feel funny. L-Like it was doing somersaults in his body.

…Did he eat something bad earlier?

Aside from that… Lovino looks quite— dare he say it— _cute_ at the moment.

_Very _cute~.

Subconsciously, Antonio licks his lips as Lovino begins to rant again.

About what?

Toni didn't know. He… _kinda _tuned Lovino out, so it all kinda became white noise. Y'know, the sound prehistoric TVs make when it doesn't have any signal?

_Pshhhht~_

So he just sat and stared at the frustrated Italian.

_Dios_, his eyes are pretty. Are they brown or are they green?

He squints a bit.

Maybe it was a mix of both? That's pretty cool~.

Lovino's mouth abruptly stops moving as his hazel eyes flicker over Antonio's shoulder.

The Spaniard is somewhat pulled out of his trance as he takes a glance behind him.

There's a girl standing there, probably the one who sat beside Lovino in this class last week, and she's wondering why Toni is there, sitting in her spot.

He glances back at Lovino, who is _trying _not to let any expletives seep into his words. His voice is velvety, smooth; yet its timbre is low, with undertones of his Italian accent evident in how he pronounced some of his words.

Lovino's voice is only nice when he talks to girls, Antonio notes. Actually? _Lovino__'__s_ only nice when he talks to girls, _period_.

He feels somewhat perturbed by this, but he hasn't any clue why.

Emerald green eyes linger on Lovino's face, which had visibly relaxed in the face of a predominantly X-chromosome-d individual.

A charming smile tugs at the corner of Lovino's lips and suddenly, Toni's breathing grows a little bit more shallow.

…Wow. H-He's so _**cute**_—

Hazel eyes suddenly meet his own and he internally flinches. They've gone cold again. How does he keep on doing that? How _can _he do that, even?

Was there like an _on/off _switch for the Italian's good mood or something..?

"Class is starting. Better get up, asshole," Lovino growls out. His tone is sharp and commanding now. The Spaniard couldn't help but feel a twinge of hurt, though Lovino's used the exact same tone on him before.

Antonio gulps before subconsciously licking his lips. He suddenly finds it hard to look Lovino in the eye, so his eyes are downcast, focussed on his lap. "Ah… _Si, si_. _Lo siento_, I… I'll go now."

He stands up and grabs his backpack before heading to his seat in front of the class.

"_Finally_," the girl exclaims in exasperation, flopping down on her seat beside Lovino. "Good riddance!"

Together, they laugh. Antonio's grip on his backpack tightens.

The professor came in and checked the attendance before beginning the lecture. As much as he wanted to, Antonio couldn't really focus on the lesson being taught. No, his attention was being drawn to the mercurial Italian seated a couple of rows behind him.

Every once in a while, he would take a glance behind him and look at Lovino.

He and the girl beside him didn't talk anymore; the latter was too busy paying attention to the professor. But Lovino… he just sat in his chair, and stared straight at his desk, eyes unfocused. He seemed distant.

Like though he was there, physically, his mind was elsewhere.

He wasn't even writing.

Antonio wondered what kind of thoughts were running through the enigmatic Italian's head.

* * *

It was after their philosophy class when Antonio tried to talk to Lovino again. He approached the Italian, his heart rapidly beating against his chest as his palms started to sweat. It became hard to breathe.

Why was he even doing this, though?

Then again, why not, right?

Lovino had finished stuffing his notebook in his backpack when he glanced up and saw the stupid Spanish bastard staring at him again. Man, what the _fuck _is this guy's _problem_, dammit?

"What now?" He snaps, his glare freezing to arctic proportions.

Antonio opened his mouth only to close it again. He did this several more times before Lovino finally scoffed at him, face twisted in distaste. "Jesus. You're a fucking retard."

He slung his backpack over his shoulder and left the room.

Toni let out a deep breath, running a hand through his unruly hair. _Dios_, what was the matter with him? Why couldn't he say anything? He _had _it in his head— he had what he wanted to say on the tip of his tongue, yet being in the mere presence of someone he didn't know how to approach had left the words dying on his tongue before they even had the chance to be spoken. He had no problem talking (arguing) with Lovino before. Why was this so different now?

This is really, really weird.

M-Maybe he should talk to Gilbert and Francis, _si_?

* * *

It was lunchtime once again when the Bad Touch Trio decided to rendezvous in the atrium and eat their lunch there. Gil set his textbooks full of code (he was taking game design at EHU) down on the granite table and voraciously began to chow down on his double cheeseburger.

Francis had opted to bring his own lunch of coq au vin leftover from last night's dinner whilst Toni went to the canteen to get himself some lunch.

Several minutes later, the latter comes back and sits at the table, his visage somewhat clouded, like there was something bothering him.

Gil glances up mid-cheeseburger and reaches over to nudge Antonio's arm. "Tone, you okay?"

Toni breaks away from his thoughts, shaking his head slightly. He gives the self-proclaimed Prussian a reassuring smile. "Ah, _si_, I am. I was just… thinking."

That… That came as a surprise. Truth be told, Antonio isn't exactly the type to sit and reflect, so hearing this immediately piques the curiosity the other two.

"About what?" Gil asks.

As if it took quite an amount of effort, the Spaniard draws and releases a long, heavy breath. "…Stuff."

"Well, what kind of 'stuff', _mon ami_?" Francis presses, his blue eyes glazed with concern. Antoine's acting _very _weird at the moment. He never got this quiet unless there was something really serious bothering him.

"Yesterday, I ran into Ms. Sharp." Toni begins.

"Yeah, you told us about that already," Gilbert comments before taking another bite of his burger.

"And I helped her carry some of her stuff, _si_? Because she had this really huge load in her arms, and it looked very heavy! She had all these books and papers; I wonder what all of those books were about. It's like everyone I saw had a stack of books in their arms that day and—"

Francis places his hand atop Antonio's in quasi-exasperation. "_Mon Dieu_, Antoine; please stay on track."

"I'm getting there! So as we're walking, I glance at the top of the pile in my arms and I see it's something Lovino wrote."

_Lovino..?_

Gilbert and Francis share a glance.

"So I was like, why not, right? Surprisingly, his writing sounded _nothing _like how he talks in real life. I-It's as if it was written by an entirely different person."

"How so?" Francis asks.

"I don't know, really. Like, he started off by describing this forest, then describing a garden. He had a way with words, like they just meshed together really well. And he didn't use bad words like I thought he would either. It was nice, the way he used gardens and forests as metaphors and all…" He trails off, glancing down at his hands. "He's more perceptive than I thought he was. And I think there's more to Lovino than what he lets other people see."

Again, Francis and Gilbert glance at each other with concern and slight surprise. Was Antonio going through a Shift already?

_Gott_, that was fast.

Because, y'see, Toni's a great guy. Really. The dude's _nearly _as awesome as he is. But he _is _human, and humans have flaws. That is a fact. Being susceptible to Shifts is one of Toni's flaws.

He gets attached to people really, really easily. He becomes infatuated, borderline _obsessed_; thing is, he loses interest in people just as quickly as he becomes interested in them. He's always been like this. Francis and Gilbert have witnessed it enough to have a moniker for it; Shifting.

It usually ends badly. Like, for the people he's infatuated with before his interest Shifts. He gets their hopes up. They think he feels for them as strongly as they do for him, and in that moment, he truly does. There's no malice. There are no lies. But the moment someone else catches his eye, he drops that person like a hot potato.

It's a vicious cycle, but it's the way Antonio is. It's sad, really, because once you strip it— the Shifting—down to its very husk, no matter how nice and genuinely kind he is, Antonio _uses _people. He toys with them and their emotions, though he doesn't mean to. He could _never _do that to a person on purpose— he's completely unaware of it. Gilbert and Francis have been thinking of how to break it to him for a while now.

It was odd, though, for Antonio to Shift his attention so quickly. Especially if one were to compare the time it took for Toni to lose interest in one person and be infatuated with the next. With how passionately Toni spoke of Feliciano, Francis and Gilbert had thought that _this was it_. That his feelings were _real _this time, after pursuing the Italian so vehemently, only to end up having his attention drawn to the other Vargas twin.

But, seriously, why _Lovino_ of all people?

This is bad.

This is really, really bad.

Gilbert, for _everyone__'__s sake_, could only hope that the Spaniard's soon-to-be infatuation with Lovino would pass just as swiftly as it came.

* * *

"'But who could ever love someone who envies the sun?'" Antonio says suddenly.

Francis raises an eyebrow at the statement. Where did that come from?

"H-He wrote that. Lovino, I mean." The former answers, licking his lips. His eyes are trained on something, some_one_ across the atrium. He's looking at Lovino, who's hanging out with the other freshmen from their alma mater who are taking Performing Arts.

He's staring at the Italian _so intently_, so _silently_. It really is… _odd_ seeing Antoine act like this.

"Antoine, are you _sure _you're okay? You're very quiet right now, _ami_, and it's starting to worry me."

Antonio glances up at the Frenchman and gives him a reassuring smile. "Ah, don't worry about me, Franny~ I'm just kinda wrapped up in my own thoughts, is all~!"

After a few seconds of silence, he speaks up again, "Say, Franny; do you think Lovino and I can ever become friends?"

The blond internally face-palms himself. _Mon Dieu_, this was really happening, wasn't it?

Antoine is _seriously _Shifting his interest to Lovino, isn't he..? And he isn't even aware of it.

"Um," Francis starts, already knowing that the Italian would rather drop dead than befriend the bubbly Spaniard, _let alone _him or Gilbert— especially after That Day In The Diner. "_Mon ami_, Lovino is a very… Hmm. How do I say this? He is quite hard to get along with, Antoine, and given the circumstances between the both of you, I personally think that a friendship between you two would be very… unlikely."

Immediately, Antonio is crestfallen. "R-Really?"

The Frenchman inwardly frets, trying to do some damage control. He waves his hands before him in a dismissive manner, "But don't take my word for it, Antoine! Who knows? Maybe someday, you two will become wonderful friends! Despite your differences, don't let that stop you!"

The brunette grins, feeling much better. "Ah~ Thanks for that, _mi amigo_~ You always know what to say~! I'll try and talk to him the next time I see him~!"

* * *

"Oh my gosh, you guys," Feliks starts, dragging someone to the squad as they congregated in this cute, little patisserie Michelle discovered the other day. "Meet my new boytoy~. Toris, say 'hi'!"

Toris is an anxious-looking brunette, fidgeting about in discomfort. Hesitantly, he glances up at the group before finding his resolve and clearing his throat. He stands up a bit straighter as he nods at them. "Hello, my name is Toris Laurinaitis."

"Aww~ You are _so cute_~!" Elizabeta coos, beaming at the Lithuanian. She pulls her camcorder out of her Nine West bag. Inconspicuously, she mutters under her breath, "I ship it."

Feliks waves her off, "Hands off, Liz; he's _mine_."

Lovino rolls his eyes as he turns to Bella. "Remind me again why I'm here?"

The Belgian pouts at him, and points at her quivering bottom lip. "Because of this~" she says in a mockingly pitiful tone.

He growls and pushes her face away, and she squeals, laughing.

"So, Toris," Michelle says, crossing her arms over her chest. "What course are you taking? Do you go to Evergreen Hollows too?"

"Ah, yes I do. I—I'm taking up sound engineering."

"Cool— Oh, yeah! Take a seat!"

"Oh em Gee, 'Chelle, your brows are, like, on fleek today!"

"Aww, why thank you!"

"Lovi," Bella taps his arm, bringing his attention away from the rest of the group. "You remember my little brother, Henri, right?"

He raises an eyebrow at her. "_Si_, I do. Why?"

So Henri's kind of a kid prodigy. He doesn't go to the same school as Lovino and Bella did, but instead, he goes to this really prestigious (thus, obscure) institution for other brainboxes with IQs like his. He's even a member of freaking Mensa. He could very well PWN Feliciano in regards to academics.

The kid is _practically _a future president in-the-making. He isn't just science-y or arithmetically smart, but he was really _smart_, smart. Even at a young age, he already had his eyes on the prize. He wanted to bring in The Big Bucks.

An excited squeal escapes her lips, "He got in! He's skipping a year, so next fall, he'll be taking up pre-law in Harvard~! Isn't that _cool_?!"

"So?" Lovino scoffs.

"So, I'll be throwing this _super-ultra-huge _party at my place Friday night~! Wanna come? It'll be _so fun_!"

The Italian cringes at the prospect of having to deal with other people. Eurgh. Even when he was still a little boy, he was already aware of the fact that he lacked the savoir faire other normal people would have.

Like that one time he and Feliciano had a joint birthday party, because no shit, they're _twins_. They were, like, turning six years old back then? Anyways, they invited all of their classmates over to their home for the festivities. _Nonno _cooked up a feast, and the entire backyard was decorated with faggoty streamers and helium-inflated balloons the colours of the rainbow.

Classic picture, right?

The shitty brats started arriving at nine o' clock, so they played a few games until it was time to eat. And by 'they', that meant everyone else but Lovino.

Sure; the game of tag was fun, but when it was time for hide-and-seek…

Alright. Truth be told, Lovino thought he was _the shit_ for finding a great hiding spot (it was in the scary as fuck shed at the edge of the yard). Thing is, his hiding spot was a bit _too _good.

Yeah, that's right, bitch. Nobody found him.

He just f-fucking _sat _there in that ratchet ass shed, waiting for them t-to start _counting _or something. So all of the remaining kids in hiding would come out so they could start the game over again.

But nobody started counting.

_Dio_, it was _so hot _in that dingy shithole, the heat came rolling in, in waves that washed over him in the form of gross sweat. He _wanted _to come out, but his pride wouldn't allow him to!

He gave it a few more minutes, thought about getting out, and decided to exit the shed several more minutes after that. He felt like he was going to pass out already, dammit!

The moment he exited that shed, the cool spring air soothed his feverish skin. He fell to the ground and his mind started spinning.

In the distance, he could see all of his classmates gathering around the 2 picnic tables with all the cake and all the food. They were singing the happy birthday song, and Feliciano was the sole celebrant (not that anyone noticed), excitedly eyeing the cake _Nonno _bought.

It was then when it hit Lovino that they weren't even looking for him in the first place.

He could do naught but watch in silent horror as his brother blew the candles out without him and as everyone cheered for the only twin present. Like, how fucked up was _that_?! It's a fucking _joint birthday party_. For _twins_. And those assholes weren't even wondering where Lovino _was_.

So he just sat there, thinking,_ Fuck you._

_Fuck _**all**_ of you._

_Fuck you, fuck your dad, fuck your mom._

_Fuck you all to hell._

_I hope you pieces of shit get salmonella and die._

_Nonno _didn't even give a shit that _one half _of the celebrants _wasn__'__t even there_. He just cut the cake for all of them with this dopey smile on his face. Eurgh.

It's safe to say that Lovino flat-out refused to have anymore joint birthday parties after that.

"…Lovi? Lovi. _Lovino._"

The aforementioned Italian is brought out of his reverie thanks to Bella lightly slapping his face. He swats her hand away, "What, dammit?"

She gives him a weird look. "Are you okay? You blanked out on me. I think I just saw your life flash before your eyes."

He rolls his eyes, shaking his head slightly. "It— It's nothing, dammit, so don't worry about it."

The blond eyes him inquisitively a little longer before she opts to shrug it off. "…Sure. Anyways, you'll come, right? To the party?"

"Uh…"

"_Please?!_" She pleads, seizing his hand and bringing it closer to her.

"The fuck?" He sputters out, pulling it away from her grasp.

"It's gonna be _so fun_. I _promise _you, you will have the _time of your life_."

He sighs, slowly shaking his head.

"Lovi, please? It's not often that I get to throw parties!" She straightens up, determined to improve her argument. "Look. My parents are away for the weekend; they're going back to Luxembourg to visit Nana. I fought _tooth _and _nail_ with Lars just to throw this party. Like, you know how much of a penny-pincher he is! And it'd mean _so much _if you came! I've never done this party-planning thing on my own before, and I want this to be, like, a night to remember. One so memorable, that when we're all old and wrinkly, we would look back at this in bouts of nostalgia and think to ourselves, 'hey, remember that _crazy_ party Bella threw at her house that one time?' and you'd be there, in your cute little rocking chair, going like, 'yeah, that was an insane party, dammit', and—"

"Bella, you're ranting. Stop." Lovino interjects, clapping his hand over her mouth. "Also? That was a _terrible _impression of me."

She rolls her icy green eyes, pulling his hand away from her mouth. She pouts at him, "So you'll come?"

He stares her down for several more seconds before sighing, rolling his eyes. "_Fine_, dammit. But _only _if you promise me to _never _do that again."

She raises three fingers up, grinning at him. "Scout's honour!"

* * *

**Translations:**

_Buenos dias_ \- Good morning (Esp.)  
_Che figata _\- What a cool thing!  
_Nonno _\- grandfather (It.)  
_grazie _\- thank you (It.)  
_hola _\- hello (Esp.)  
_mio fratello _\- my brother (It.)  
_Dios mio _\- Oh my God (Esp.)  
_Dio _\- God (It.)  
_Dios _\- God (Esp.)  
_Si _\- yes (Esp./It.)  
_lo siento _\- I'm sorry (Esp.)  
_mon ami _\- my friend (Fr.)  
_mon Dieu _\- Oh my God (Fr.)  
_Gott _\- God (Dt.)  
_ami _\- friend (Fr.)

**The plot thickens. Oooo~ If you****'****re wondering how the ding dang doodly Antonio is IC in this, Himaruya****'****s revealed that Spain ****'****might as well have ****"****two faces****" ****like Russia****'****. I wanted Toni****'****s character to have more depth, so he****'****ll be kinda two-faced in this fic.**

**So I kinda got stuck with the BTT scene here. I suck at their characterisation, so if there****'****s anything OOC, or anything I can do to portray them better, please do tell me. :D**

**Lovino will finally get to cross something off his list. Who can guess what it is?**

**And thanks so much for all the wonderful feedback~! All the favourites and all the follows~ I hope this story will mean just as much to you as it does to me.**

**Review, **_**por favore**_**!**

**~jellydonut16~**

**P.S. **_**A Love Like War **_**is my JAM! :D**


	11. eleven

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.  
****Warning: Contains pseudo-interior monologue, all-caps, alcohol and substance abuse.  
****Reader discretion is advised.**

**_Kicking the Bucket List_**

**eleven**

**"_I__'__m scared to get close, and I hate being alone.  
_****_I long for that feeling to not feel at all.  
_****_The higher I get, the lower I__'__ll sink.  
_****_I can__'__t drown my demons, they know how to swim._"  
****— _Can You Feel My Heart _by Bring Me The Horizon**

…So the Spanish bastard's been acting _really weird _lately.

Like, it wasn't just 'weird'— because that shitstain's _always _been weird— but more on 'weird**_er_**'.

Like, sure, the dipshit would be in front of Lovino and his _fratello__'__s _apartment building every morning— what's new, right?— and he would proceed to give Feliciano his stupid 'Love Offering'.

Yeah. That's become a regular thing, _si_?

But the thing is, _immediately _after that, the dickhead would go straight to _him_— _Lovino_— and start talking to him like they were the best of friends..!? Seriously!

Like, what the hell, asshole?

What did that douche nozzle think of him, dammit; some sort of _obstacle_? A boss monster at the end of a level to defeat?

Or was it just some sort of '_keep your friends close; keep your enemies closer_' kind of schtick, because that shit will _not _fly by him so easily. The Spaniard's games of invasion of personal space and quasi-stalkery will prove to be useless as fuck, dammit, because _no matter **what**_— not even over Lovino's swinging, lifeless body, will that Spanish bag of _horseshit _**_ever_** get into Feliciano's pants!

It just fucking sucks now that he has this stupid Spanish bastard following h-him around like s-some kind of l-lost _puppy _or something, dammit!

God, why won't he leave Lovino alone?

As a side note, do people even make chastity belts anymore? …For _men_?

Because his _Virginity Guardian Armour_'s showing a fuckton of weakness right now. Like, _why the fuck _won't it work on the fucking bastard?! Is— Is he too _stupid _or something to comprehend the fact that he will _never _stand a chance with Feliciano? That dickweed will _never _be good enough for his _fratello_.

Even Lovino himself wasn't good enough for his _fratello_.

Like, that's— that's fucking saying… a _lot_.

* * *

I-It's lunchtime and Lovino's feeling _kinda_ edgy.

Actually? He's feeling _absolutely murderous_.

His breathing is growing shallow, his palms are sweating, and his blood is boiling. He's starting to see red, and he's pretty sure he's going insane. Wanna know why?

"Aww~ Are you in a bad mood again, Lovino~?" Antonio asks, having waited for Lovino after his science class.

…Yep.

No, seriously, dammit. After he had walked out of the classroom, the piece of shit was standing _right there_, l-_looming_; _anticipating_… like some psychotic stalker o-or something. For fuck's sake.

Lovino clenches his fists, glaring at the Spaniard. "Why the fuck are you here?! Why won't you leave me the fuck alone, dammit?!" His hazel eyes are _furious_, something darker within their depths.

The older twin is livid. He doesn't want this at _all_. Like, it's bad enough that he has to restrain the asshole from hitting on his brother. But this? This was _too much_. And it's as if he can literally feel his self-restraint crumbling. H-Have you ever felt so**_ pissed _**at someone, you _kinda _just wanted to punch them in the throat, beat the living daylights out of them with a shovel, and drag their bloody, unconscious bodies into the ocean? Because he's totally getting those vibes right now. Cheh, let the assholes sleep with the fishes, dammit.

_Dio mio_, these idiots are going to be the death of him— if not the reason for his incarceration, that is. Fucking hell.

The furious Italian swallows the lump forming in his throat as he resignedly ignores the Spaniard, who's hot on his heels and talking his head off.

W-What the hell; is he _seriously _going on about fucking _turtles _right now? And farm animals?

What the fuck is wrong with him, dammit?!

_Why?!_

_Why _can't he fucking _shut it_?!

He could feel himself reaching his breaking point.

_One more, _he inwardly seethed. _Just _one more _word, and I__'__ll__—_

The stupid Spaniard pokes his cheek. His mind blanks out, and not in a good way, either. "Aww~ Lovino~ You look like a squishy tomato~! Ahaha~"

_Hahahahahahahahaha~_

Antonio~.

**You're _fucked_!**

Lovino draws his fist back and punches the fucker in the face. Antonio stumbles back, clutching his nose as he hissed out muffled Spanish expletives.

He doesn't wait a moment to make his escape. At the last second, a hand latches onto his wrist, pulling him back. It's Antonio, who's now equally pissed. He rears his fist back and punches Lovino's face with lightning-quick speed.

Before they know it, they're in a full-out brawl in the middle of the fucking hallway. Punches and kicks are thrown, but with the adrenaline rushing through the Italian's veins, he hardly feels a thing.

Albeit the fact that the Spanish bastard was strong, Lovino had the experience that gave him an advantage. Seems like getting beat up and beating up those that bullied Feliciano had benefitted him after all, _si_?

Lovino manages to grab hold of the Spaniard's shirt collar and inadvertently dragged him out to the courtyard, where there were many spectating the altercation, though none were showing any signs of intervening anytime soon.

"What the fuck is your problem, _pendejo_?" the bastard sputters out, irritation evident in his tone as he pried Lovino's hand away from his shirt and shoved the Italian back.

"Well, what the fuck is _yours_?" Lovino retorts, stepping closer to the Spaniard 'til they were toe-to-toe with each other. "Stop stalking me, dipshit! What the fuck are you trying to do?! Creep me out into letting you date my brother? Because I fucking _think not_—"

"What is going on here?!" A professor booms, striding across the grass towards them. Immediately, two random spectators break out of their trances and pull the two mediterraneans away from each other, both still sputtering curses at the other in their respective native tongues.

"He started it!" Lovino decries, directing an accusatory glare at the Spaniard. "He's been annoying the hell out of me for _days on end_! I swear to God, he's been fucking _stalking me_ like some kind of creep, dammit!"

"Newsflash~! What if, maybe, I just wanted to be your _friend_, Lovino?!" Antonio roars back, struggling against his human restraints. "Oh, wait~! You wouldn't _know _because you don't _have any~_!"

"Fuck you!" The other shrieks, before the professor finally puts his foot down.

"Alright, that's enough!" The professor bellows, spittle flying from his bearded lips. "Come on, people. We're old enough— rough-housing solves _nothing_!"

"Fucking _stalking me _solves nothing!"

"Ahahaha~ Don't flatter yourself, Lovino~."

"Bullshit! You were looming outside my class like some kind of beady-eyed little twerp! What the _hell _is your problem?!"

"Well, maybe, my problem is you!"

"I _knew _it, I just fucking _knew it_."

Someone immediately spans the distance from the corridor to the fuming Italian upon observing the spectacle before her. It's Bella. She gently touches his forearm and he flinches. "What— What's going on?"

"A fight is what's 'going on'." The professor mumbles, voice laced in disapproval. "Do you know these two?"

Immediately, Bella channels her inner actress and tries to get Lovi out of this terrible mess. "Oh~!" She fakes a gasp, covering her mouth with her hand. "That's _terrible_—"

She leans in closer to the professor, expression grave and serious. "I'm sorry, sir," she says, playing the pity card for Lovi. "Thing is, my friend here has a been through a _lot _of stuff. He was nearly, uh, _kidnapped_. As a _child_. The one who lured him in was this little boy his age then, and thankfully, I was able to chase him on my… uh, my _bike_ and I just— I caught the kid? And I— I just did a double-whammy on him and he kinda blacked out, but bottom-line is: my friend here is has been traumatised by it ever since. It makes him all paranoid, and when someone even just _follows _him for six consecutive seconds, he kinda has the tendency to _snap_. So… So that's what happened."

The academician skeptically cocks an eyebrow up, as if to say, 'Do you really expect me to believe that shit?'

The blond nods in insistence. "It's true~! So _please_ let him off easy just this once, sir? ...And the other guy too, I guess."

"This is ridiculous!" He exclaims before heaving a heavy sigh. He turns to face the two delinquents, crossing his hairy arms over his chest. "Alright. Fine. I'll let you two off the hook_, __only _if you—" he pointedly glares at Lovino. "—make sure to reign your emotions and your paranoia in. You will constantly put your peers in the way of bodily harm if you keep that up."

Not waiting for a response, the professor quickly turns and trudges back to the general direction of the faculty room.

Lovino shrugs off the arms of the guy holding him back, glaring hatefully at the Spaniard who refused to meet his gaze. The former then turns to face Bella and his blood runs cold.

Her green eyes are icier than ever as she has her arms crossed over her chest in disappointment. Well, shit.

* * *

"I don't understand why you had to get into a fistfight with someone the second week of school," Bella mutters, voice laced with disapproval as she dabs at Lovino's face with a frozen tenderloin steak. Like, thank God for Saran Wrap. The Vargas brothers had no frozen peas in their apartment, which was weird because frozen peas were usually a staple in most households, right?

"Trust me, Bel," he mumbles in a nasal tone. "If you were in my shoes, you would've punched him too. Hell, maybe even worse!"

"…I seriously doubt that." She pulls the semi-thawed steak away from his face and tuts at the damage, shaking her head. His face was kinda scratched up in general, but the left side of his face took brunt of the damage. "Alright, about the party tonight. I'm going to swing by around six or so, so you better be ready by then, okay?"

Lovi sighs, taking the steak from her and flopping on the couch. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever." He continues pressing it to his nose.

If this is going to be a regular occurrence, he should really invest in a goddamn icepack. Or at least a pack of— of fucking frozen peas or something. Mixed vegetables and shit.

She sits beside him, reaching for the remote and turning the TV on. "Where's Feli?"

"He's having lunch with his stupid friends again. As usual." Lovino grunts.

"Does he know what happened between you and that— that other guy?" She asks, raising an eyebrow as she surfed through the channels.

"Ngh. No? Maybe? Probably? I'll bet he'll give me one of his stupid, lengthy sermons again when he gets back home from class. Fuck my life."

"Oh, come on. It can't be _that _bad, right?"

Lovino looks at her like she's sprouted two heads. "Are you fucking kidding me? Last time he lectured me was, like, over summer break. So he just came back from a shitty outing with his even shittier friends, right? And I'm just, like, here, in my room, doing my own thing; minding my own business. Then Feliciano fucking came in like a proverbial wrecking ball, going, '_fratello_, why don't you have any friends?! We should make this summer memorable before we go off to college!' and sentimental crap like that.

"So I was like, 'What the fuck, Feliciano? Go away', but he just fucking _stood _there at my doorway for, like, an hour, sermonising me about how I should make the best of my youth like he did and shit like that. Ugh, it was terrible. He kept on quoting stuff from Inspirational Quotes on Facebook. 'Life only comes around once, so do whatever makes you happy, and be with whoever makes you smile'. 'Don't wait for the perfect moment; take the moment and make it perfect'. Oh my God. Atrocious."

"…Wow. You poor baby."

"Shut up, Bella." He weakly punches her.

"You _actually _memorised the quotes, you hypocrite." She hits him right back using her clutch.

* * *

It's around four PM when the door to the apartment opens and is unceremoniously slammed shut by none other than Feliciano.

It's an 'oh shit' moment for Lovino, who instantly closes his Macbook shut with one hand, a frozen pack of two dory fish fillets in the other, gingerly pressed upon the side of his face. He fidgets a bit from his position of lounging on the couch.

Feliciano strides up to him, leaving his backpack by the door. He crosses his arms over his chest and impatiently taps his foot repeatedly against the floor.

Several moments of one-sided, _infuriating _silence befalls them before Feliciano breaks it with a snippy and shrilly "Well?!"

Lovino has to bite on the inside of his cheek to keep himself from sheepishly smirking at his brother. Without skipping a beat, he answers with a nonchalant "'Well', what?"

"You know 'what'!" Feliciano retorts, frowning at him in fervent disapproval. "Why did you have to do that?! Toni _never _did anything to you!"

A sarcastic chuckle escapes the other twin's lips. "Hah, _right_." The smile immediately drops off his face in an instant, no humour whatsoever in his facial expression or tone. "The bastard's been clinging to me like a goddamn leech! He's— He's been _annoying _me non-fucking-stop—"

"That doesn't mean you can _punch _him!" Feli is borderline corybantic.

"I can and I did!" The other Vargas bellows, sitting up straighter on the couch. "We _hate _each other; anyone and their mother can see that. The shifty motherfucker's been avoiding me like the plague since That Day In The Diner; now he suddenly flips 180º, fucking _stalking me_, and now _I__'__m _in the wrong?"

"You punched him first, _fratello_—"

"He was fucking _asking _for it! Now get off my case, dammit. Why— Why the hell are you even sticking up for that piece of shit? _I__'__m _your brother—"

"But he's my _friend_, Lovi!"

Well. Fuck if that didn't hurt.

Hazel eyes widen in shock and anger. But mostly anger.

Fuck, he was _so fucking pissed_.

"So?" Lovino is standing now, arms defiantly crossed over his chest. "So what you're saying is that you'd rather _stick up for someone you just met_ instead of your own fucking brother—" he throws a hand up, a dry laugh escaping his lips as he rolls his eyes. "Great! That is so _fucking great_."

Feli frowns at him, tears threatening to fall from his honey brown eyes. "I've lost a lot of friends because of you, you know that? And I don't want to lose any more!"

Lovino's heart sinks to the bottom of his chest, and in that moment, he wants nothing more but for the floor to consume him and swallow him whole. His throat constricts painfully, and tears sting the back of his eyes. Finally, it all comes out, huh?

The younger twin wipes at his face with the back of his paint-stained hand. "_Dio_, Lovi, why do you have to be so difficult to talk to?"

Lovino licks his chapped lips, forcing the lump down his throat as he tried to find his voice. It came out hoarse; throaty. He forces a grin on his face when he wants to do nothing more but to run and escape.

"Hah, funny. When am I _not _difficult to talk to? I've always been like this. The day you should start worrying is the day I acquiesce to whatever you have to say."

With that, he storms into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

Tears roll down his reddening cheeks, rage and sadness fomenting within his being all at once.

'_You idiot!__' _Lovino wanted to yell at the door. _'__You fucking idiot! You don__'__t know how much I gave up for you, and you just fucking throw it all away!__'_

His breathing grows shallow as he sinks to the ground. His eyes flicker over to the bedside table containing the bucket list before focussing his needing gaze on the _Nike _shoebox that contained his sweet salvation fashioned out of rope.

* * *

Six PM had finally rolled around. Feliciano had exited the apartment an hour earlier to have a study session with his beloved friends, so he was all alone now. The older Vargas brother was able to get ready for tonight's party in unsettling silence. He donned a black button-down, dark wash jeans and black Vans.

He briefly considered leaving a note, since he didn't get to tell his _fratello _about the party. But he thought about the argument that had transpired earlier, and then he got re-pissed about it.

No note for you.

Asshole.

Lovino jogs out of the apartment building. As if on cue, Bella pulls up in front of him in her boisterous yellow Corvette convertible. Elizabeta is riding shotgun, smirking at him.

"Hey~!" Bella says, beaming at him. "You look great!"

He fakes an easy smile, complimenting them right back. He gets in the backseat and Bella turns to face him, face flushed in excitement. "You stoked?"

He rolls his eyes, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't know— whatever, dammit. Just drive already."

She then sets off for her house on the other side of the city.

* * *

The Janssens Manor was a luxurious mansion that boasted of wealth and class. It exuded a certain vibe that ran along the lines of 'SHIT SON, THEY LOADED AS FUCK' that would have a line of butlers and maids in the foreground of the rich, green lawn, wearing Raybans at night while aggressively doing the shmoney dance.

Yeah, or something like that.

Don't ask.

Bella rolled up the red brick driveway, past the water fountain, and stopped right in front of the modernist styled house. The party was already well underway as the music was cranked up to the highest volume, the front doors thrown wide open and teeming with partygoers.

He clambered out of the convertible, following Bella and Liz into the mansion as the blond left her car keys into the hands of a valet.

Hazel eyes glanced up at the pristine white mansion, drinking in the structure's architecturally aesthetic qualities. Despite the fact that he's been here before, it still captivated him.

Amidst all the people, there were huge strobe lights hung up from the building's high ceilings, darting over and around the room, like the eyes of a predator choosing its prey. There was a DJ in one corner of the living room, bopping his head to the beat.

The abstract art sculptures that usually resided in the living room were apparently tucked away, same for the many paintings Mr. Janssens had invested in.

It left the mansion a little bit more bare, a bit more colder, but it was for the best.

Frosty blue lights lit up the hall before him, slithering up the metal railing of the obsidian marble stairway. It was nice. Really nice.

Just as he breaks out of his reverie, he instinctively turns to find Bella— only she's not there. He lost her in the crowd. She's gone somewhere, and now, he's all alone.

After an accidental shove rooted him out of his spot, he forced his feet to more to the general direction of the living area. He spots her across the room. She's surrounded with her friends from their former high school and her new friends from EHU.

She looks happy.

Since he doesn't know majority of the people she's eagerly talking to, bringing the drinks out, he decides to brave the party on his own.

He hasn't the heart to distract her or pull her away from her friends.

S-She has her own life a-and many more friends after all, dammit…

**(Just like Feliciano.)**

Again, he found himself slowing down, in the middle of the living area as he tried to c-comprehend his thoughts.

D-_Dangerous _thoughts.

It was a room full of people that made him feel very much alone. It was something he was accustomed to— the loneliness— though he had yet to embrace it. He'd figured he might as well, since it's all he's ever known.

As he made his way through the crowd, the music was on full-blast, its backbeat resonating throughout his chest, pummelling his eardrums with every synthesised drop of the bass.

It was still so early; the night was still young, yet his peers were already going on a straight path to their own drunken undoing. People were already lining up outside the bathrooms, guest bedrooms and walk-in closets.

As if his mind were in a trance, he absentmindedly weaved his way to the kitchen, where there were a group of people preparing their game of beer pong. He grabbed a red plastic cup— a party staple in any household— and concocted himself a Jack cola. Languidly, he took a sip. The fizz of the diet Coke sizzled the back of his throat, though it did not overpower the bitter undertones of the Jack Daniel's on his tongue.

He lingers there for a while, awkwardly nomming on handful after handful of Doritos and Cheetos. He daren't even touch the Lays since potatoes suck.

Having nothing better to do, he decided to go upstairs, see if there was anything worthy of his interest.

With every jaded step up the staircase, before him, he saw numerous couples lining the walls, not paying the Italian any heed for they were too caught up in their intimate osculations. The lights were dimmed, leaving it up to the unwilling spectators to guess whom was who by their faint silhouettes.

The corridor was fuggy; consumed by smoke. It airily wafted around his person, the scent embracing his clothing as if someone had lit a handful of incense sticks, though the smell was much more… different.

It didn't smell of incense, nor did it smell of cigarettes or tobacco… but it seemed to run along the lines of the latter two.

Out of boredom more than curiosity, Lovino deftly treads across the carpeted floor and makes his way to the room where the smoke seemed to be originating from.

It was a bedroom, several people within it. They were mostly seated on the floor. There, he spotted Bella and Henri's older brother, Lars.

He had a blunt in hand, eyes red as his gaze fell on the intruding Italian.

"Shit." Lovino hisses under his breath, face reddening. They saw him. "Um. Sorry."

"You're Bella's friend, right?" Lars slurs, tilting his head up from his position sitting cross-legged on the floor.

The corner of the Italian's lips quirks down. "…Yeah, I am."

Lars motioned him forward. After a moment's hesitance, he steps inside, hazel eyes darting around, taking in its surroundings.

A girl is in the far end of the room. She's got pasty skin and turquoise dreadlocks, and she's playing the bongos whilst humming something under her breath as she sways from side to side.

There's a circle of people in the middle of the room, like some weird weed-smoking cult as they take turns passing a rainbow glass bong— in what seemed to be the shape of a fancy-looking uterus— around.

Then there's the blond girl beside Lars. She has a nearly consumed blunt between her index and her middle finger, the rest of her fingers nimbly wrapped around a red cup. She is half-sprawled atop of him, one of her legs tangled with his. The studded bra she's wearing looks uncomfortable.

Lovino awkwardly stuffs his hands into his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels. "Well? What do you want, dammit?" He huffs, brows knitting together.

Lars eyes him for several more seconds before silently raising the blunt up to the Italian, whose eyes widen. A small smirk creeps onto the spiky-haired blond's lips.

Nervously, the brunette licks his lips before tentatively grabbing the joint with his thumb and his index finger, taking a seat on the floor adjacent to the couple.

"I… What— What the hell do I do?" Lovino asks.

The girl beside Lars sits up a fraction, "You do this,"

She brings her blunt up to her lips, inhaling it, filling her lungs up with the smoke. She tenses a fraction as she holds it in for several seconds before slowly exhaling the smoke out through her puckered lips. Her body visibly relaxes as she slumps against Lars, cuddling him.

The older Vargas brother nods reluctantly in acknowledgement before doing the same, bringing it to his lips with trembling fingers. He accidentally inhales it too quickly, and he pulls away; starts choking.

A random tattooed guy from the Bong Circle comes up and pats him on the back, ignoring the stiffening of the Italian's body at the unexpected contact.

_Don__'__t touch me, _the Italian automatically thinks.

Once Lovino's eyes stop watering, he tries it again. He slowly inhales the smoke. They burn his throat on the way down to his lungs, and as much as he wants to pull away, he doesn't.

When he reaches his limit, when his lungs are filled with smoke, he holds it in and hands the blunt back to Lars, who takes another hit.

"Yeah, just hold it in there. You'll loosen up real soon, bro," Tattoo Guy chortles, patting his back.

_But I__'__m not your __'__bro__'__, _He inwardly thinks again. _Don__'__t you fucking __'__bro__' __me, __'__bro__'__._

Not even five seconds later, Lovino lets the smoke out through his nose, his nostrils and his eyes burning at the sensation.

He absently rubs his nose, waiting for the high to wash over his being like a tidal wave.

Nothing.

So he tries it again, taking the blunt from Lars again. Then he hands it back.

…Still nothing.

He doesn't feel a thing, so he stands up, thinking it was a fluke or something. "Thanks, I guess," he mumbles, walking out of the room. He downs the rest of his drink before making his way past the many couples again.

From the top of the stairs to the second floor, he observes the party going on below. He vaguely recognises several people he used to go to school with scattered in the crowd, jovially dancing, drinking and socialising…

He gulps.

Lovino walks down the stairs again, once or twice stumbling over the occasional couple that took to the stairs instead of the walls.

He needs to find something to do. Maybe he should just go home?

But… Bella.

He tries looking for her amidst the flurry of people surrounding him, but he doesn't see her. He feels lost.

Unneeded.

Unwanted.

Dangerous thoughts.

_Dio_, why was he invited to this party, anyway? Why did he even agree to come? He _hates _parties.

Because this _always _happened in social gatherings; events; parties.

He was a social pariah; a loser, basically.

B-But he thought that— that maybe, because Bella had invited him, it'd get better. After all, they _were _friends, right?

Right?

S-So he thought he wouldn't be a-all alone anymore…

But he is.

He's alone right now, attending the party of someone that isn't even fucking there, and the place is jam-packed with people he doesn't even know.

Fan-fucking-tastic, right?

And— And what happened with Feliciano earlier didn't help jack shit either, d-dammit…

Ugh. Fuck life.

* * *

Meanwhile, Feliciano and his friends were in their usual hang out place. The diner. The Bad Touch Trio is with them, too~!

"Ve~ I'm really sorry for what happened earlier!" Feliciano vehemently apologises to Antonio for the umpteenth time. "Lovi isn't usually _this _violent, so I guess he was in a really, really bad mood or something!"

"Ah, it's okay, Feli~!" Antonio says, smiling at the Italian, faux naïf. Actually? It was _not _okay~! His face still hurt _a lot_.

B-But the thing is, what didn't upset him was the fact that he and Lovino got into a fistfight or that he got punched in the face; it was the fact that Lovino disliked (or full-out hated) him enough to punch him the first place.

It was confusing, really…

Whenever he saw Lovino, he felt _inclined_, in a way, to… to get to know him better…? Because there could be so much more beneath all those anger issues, _si_?

He wasn't really sure.

It kinda made him feel bad that his body had immediately retaliated like that. Even though it was necessary for him to.

It was like Lovino was kinda... '_up there_'; up _where_, Antonio didn't know, but it was too high up for Antonio to reach.

It was like Lovino was… _untouchable_.

Yeah~.

Untouchable.

Like no matter what he did, there would always be this barrier that would prevent them from getting along with each other.

No matter what, they could never be 'friends'.

But why was there a barrier in the first place? Why did the Spaniard want to break it down, or get past it— even if it meant getting socked in the face— so badly?

He was really, really confused right now~!

So he did what he does best. He shrugged the boggling thoughts out of his mind, focussing on the cute little Italian before him, poring over the preliminary sketches for one of his plates for art class.

"Say, Feli?" Antonio asks, beaming at the Vargas twin.

Feliciano glances up. "Ve~ Yes, Toni?"

"W-What—" The Spaniard swallows the lump that had formed in the back of his throat. "How about we go out?"

Feliciano's honey brown eyes widened. "What? Where?"

"Y'know… 'Out' out. How about we go out for breakfast tomorrow morning? I'll pick you up and all~."

The Italian felt cornered. He just— he didn't think of Antonio in That Way (ve, but he sure knows someone he _knows _he likes in That Way~), but… maybe, if it makes up for what happened with Lovi earlier? (Speaking of which, he'll have to make it up to his _fratello _later… Lovino usually means well, but what he did was wrong. But maybe Feli should have talked to him using a different approach instead of putting him on the spot like that, _si_?)

"Ve~ Okay…" He murmurs, tilting his head to the side in the fraction.

Antonio beams at him, reaching over the table to pinch Feliciano's cheeks. "Aww~ You're too cute, Feli~!"

* * *

He's returned to the kitchen, which he's dubbed his domain. He downed one more cup of Jack cola and one of Vodka Red Bull, trying to get a good buzz going on so the night would be more tolerable. He grabs a shot glass with the rim lined with salt and grabs a sliver of lime. It's vodka, straight up. The Italian manages to down three shots before grimacing at the taste. It was at room temperature. Fuck.

His stomach feels all fiery and hot from the vodka, but he feels loose enough to grab a beer.

As a side note, the people playing beer pong are getting tipsier.

It's when he decides to go outside when it finally hits him. Hard.

The high, that is.

And just like _that_, all the anxiety that had knotted in his stomach j-just… melted away.

In that one transcendental moment, reality and fantasy had blurred into one fucking beautiful, psychedelic, _chaotic_ mess.

It was like looking at the world through one of the many camera effects on the Photo Booth app on his Macbook, or through the Slow Shutter app on his iPhone. He dubbed it Weed Vision. It was trippy as fuck.

He felt like he was floating on cloud nine, his footsteps feeling airy and light, as he made his way to the pool. People are dancing around it, hot, sweaty bodies writhing and gyrating to the music.

With his Weed Vision, everything contorts, distorts in slow motion— kinda like a Salvador Dalí painting coming to life right before him. It's pretty, and it's nice, and it's pretty nice.

A light laugh (giggle) escapes his lips as he flops down onto a divan and rolls around, spectating the crowd.

Several minutes pass and he's _bored_.

**B-O-R-E-D.**

In his haste, he sits up and looks around the area. Should he dance?!

Should he? Should he? Should he?

He takes a second to think about i— _yes he will_.

Lovino slides off of the divan and stumbles over to the throng of people. There's dubstep thumping through the speakers and _holyfuckingshitthatbass _and—

BANGARANG

WUBWUBWUBWUB  
WUB WUBWUB  
WUB WUBWUB

BANGARANG

WUBWUBWUBWUB  
WUB WUBWUB  
WUB WUBWUB

FEEL GOOD

Lovino is already aggressively krumping to Skrillex before his mind even registers it. People make a space for him because he's fucking amazing and special. They're even cheering him on!

Whilst doing so, he's downed the bottle of beer and the bottle just— just fucking went away somewhere!

He continues dancing, and the music mellows down to something a bit more… s-sensual. _Latch _has everyone clinging to a dance partner, their bodies moving together in perfect harmony to the song.

Damn, where did these two come from? He found two pretty girls writhing against him serpentine, trailing their fingers down his clothed chest. Albeit his sexual orientation, he can't help but find it a-arousing. Fuck.

The girl pressing herself up against him from behind brushes her lips against the lobe of his ear and he stiffens in realisation, albeit his incoherent thoughts.

It's then when he begins to panic. His breathing grows shallow as the sweat on his brow rolls down his cheek. His chest painfully constricts as his head spins.

He doesn't want this.

He d-doesn't want to be _touched _like this.

The girl in front of him is slowly sliding her hands up his button-down, caressing his smooth, creamy skin.

No.

No no no no no no no_nononononono_—

**_No._**

Out. He needs out right now.

_Dio mi salvi._

Suddenly, abruptly, he excuses himself from the two seductresses and decides to make his escape post-haste. Despite the fact that they do not follow him, he runs, anyway.

As soon as he is far, far away from them, the _vixens_, he can breathe easy again. He could handle women, yes, and he was very good at it, but for fuck's sake, _not like this_.

He needs more alcohol, he decides. So he ventures back to the kitchen and finds himself drawn into the game of beer pong. It had escalated into beer wars during his absence, with double the tables, double the cups, and double the booze.

That being said, he manages to slip away from the game after drinking several (and then some) cups of beer. There's more lively music in the living area, so he finds himself rushing to it, his high still going strong.

He finds himself lifted up and— whoa, since when did his shirt get unbuttoned?— carried to the two dudes holding a beer keg up connected to a hose via the tap. He reaches for the hose and beer is steadily pouring out of it before he even gets to direct it to his mouth. The booze dribbles down his face and to his clothes. _Dio_, what a fucking mess.

He downs a pint or so's worth of PBR before he's set down. Immediately, he sets himself on ridding himself of his shirt. Hurling it somewhere, he then focusses on undoing his pants— it was doused in beer, anyway, right?

Plus, there was a fucking pool _right fucking outside_! Carpe diem, right?!

Bella's house is **the shit**.

* * *

_Clack._

"Ve~ _Fratello_, I'm home!" Feliciano greets, opening the door to the apartment he and his brother shared. The living and kitchen area is empty. All in the apartment is silent.

Maybe Lovi fell asleep or something~. The younger Vargas brother locks the door behind him shut, his hand clutching the take-out he got for his _fratellone_.

He makes his way to Lovi's bedroom, rapping his fists on his door. "Lovi? …Lovi, wake up! I brought you dinner!"

Silence.

Unnerving silence.

Normally, Lovino would be up already, interrogating Feliciano or complaining how the latter had roused him from his slumber.

A small frown creeps onto Feliciano's features, his stomach twisting in anxiousness (for what?) and concern. He knocks on the door several more times, calling Lovino's name out, receiving no response.

He gulps, almost hesitantly reaching for the doorknob and twisting it open. He pushes the door back, only to find the slightly messy bedroom empty.

The haphazardly bed is still made. Where did _fratello _go?

Feli hurries to the kitchen area across Lovino's room and sets the take-out down. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, dialling the older twin's number. The dial-tone is on, b-but he isn't— he isn't picking up.

The Italian begins to panic. Where could he be? Lovi _never _goes anywhere without telling him!

He _especially _**_never _**goes anywhere without his phone!

All he could do was hope that Lovino comes home from wherever he is right now soon, or at least hope that his _fratellone _was safe…

* * *

"Cowabunga, bitch!" Lovino yells out, running out of the house in his boxers before doing a cannonball dive into the pool.

He's in the water. He feels happy, so, so very happy being in the water.

He feels it swishing, swirly around him like a pretty rainbow, only in blue. A blue rainbow.

_Wooosh~!_

_Wooosh~!_

Oh God. _He is a cyclone._

In that moment, he becomes fucking Poseidon, god of the goddamn motherfucking seas. His arms flail around the water before he holds his breath and swims the bottom of the pool.

_Wooosh~!_

_Wooosh~!_

It feels all nice and tingly around his body. His legs are kicking the water, they're in slow motion.

In that moment, he is in The Matrix. He is Keanu Reeves, dodging imaginary bullets.

_HAHAHA TAKE THAT, YOU MOTHERFUCKERS_

_YOU CAN__'__T TOUCH ME_

_YOU CAN__'__T TOUCH **THIS**_

Underwater acrobatics aside, his lungs are burning. He needs air or else he's gonna _drown_ and _die_.

…_OH GOD._

It's a race against time as he wades his way up back to surface.

_Woooosh~_

**Faster.**

_Wooosh~_

**_Faster._**

_Woosh~_

**_FASTER FASTER FASTER FASTER FASTER_**

_Woooosh wooosh wooosh woosh woosh woosh__—_

He's out! He is _alive_!

GOD BLESS AMERICA.

BUT GOD BLESS ITALY FIRST. _D__IO_, THAT FUCKING AMAZING COUNTRY OF HIS.

It's _home_.

But he was born in America.

But fuck that shit.

Italy will always be his true home because it has nice food and lots of pretty ladies who don't blatantly molest him like some of the fucking sluts here.

_Hello?!_

Like, at least have the _decency _to fucking _introduce yourself to someone before you shamelessly rut against them in goddamn public like a mutt in heat, you thirsty bitch._

He's floating in the water now, staying afloat. Fuck, it's cold.

After catching his breath, he slinks back into the water, where it's warmer. It whips his hair in all directions.

Holy _shit_.

…Is this what Ariel feels like?

Under the sea?

Suddenly, he's in The Little Mermaid. He is Princess Ariel, who got a shitty haircut and dye job from Ursula, that nasty fucking shit bitch cunt fucker with the ratchet ass weave. She screwed him/her over. He/She should've gotten a haircut at Supercuts or something instead. At least there would've been like. More credibility?

There are sea creatures at the bottom of the pool. They're singing, but somehow, it's like this garbled version of Ke$ha's 'We r who we r'.

God.

**They _suck_.**

B-O-R-I-N-G!

He swims out of the pool, climbing out of it. He's sh-sh-sh-_shivering _l-l-l-like s-s-some g-g-goddamn d-d-d-dog.

_Brrrrrrr~_

He then gets this really fucking _awesome idea_!

He should make a fucking _fire_!

Like, a _bonfire_!

Then he and everyone can dance and twerk around it and sing Kumbaya while they all get _blazed_.

Weed is good.

Weed is nice.

Weed is second to life, but only because tomatoes and pasta and pizza and gelato and _everything Italian _are first in life.

Oh my God.

_He__'__s Italian_, so that means _he__'__s **first in life**!_

An ebullient giggle escapes his lips as he claps his hands. _Finally_, he's _first in something_!

But _first_ off~! HAHA AGAIN! 'FIRST'!

Wood.

He needs wood.

And n-_not _the kind you get in the morning either, you fucking perverts..!

He needs wood from trees.

He needs tree wood.

Yes.

Tree wood.

Not the huge lumpy part, but the smaller parts.

Y'know, _the** thing**_.

God. What were they called again?

B-Brun… Bran…

Bracket?

Twig?

Stick?

_Per l__'__amore di Dio, the thing._

Log— no, _fuck_, no!

…Tree.

Tree wood.

Tree stick.

Stick wood.

Tiny logs.

Tiny tree lump thing— the fuck?

Baby trees— no, Lovino, those are _plants_. Saplings.

_Dammit._

…Giant twig?!

Fuck, it's on _the tip of his tongue_!

Tree b-b-b…

Oh God.

Finally.

**_Tree bones._**

_Magnifico__._

He quickly sets off to find tree bones, but winds up inside. _Talk Dirty To Me _is playing right now, and it is _so his jam_.

FUCK.

Everyone is more energetic than ever, they're all jumping! Jump, jump, jump!

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA~

Oh God. The strobe lights.

Fucking pretty colours.

He stares directly at them, he doesn't give a flying, flipping Shamu-shaped fuck if it gives him an epileptic seizure or something. He's krumping again.

He's krumping his way to the top.

Which happens to be the pool table Feliks is twerking on top of.

Bella is with him downing jelly shots like they're running out of style.

"Hey, Bella!" Lovino exclaims, shaking from both the cold and the excitement.

WHAT A WONDERFUL AGE TO BE IN.

**"Talk dirty to me!"** Everyone cheers. Bella pulls Lovino up on the pool table and the Italian tries his hand at twerking. The crowd cheers for him, urging him on. He almost falls off the table, but manages to save face by diving into the crowd.

They catch him, and like good, obedient little servants, they carry him around the room.

In circles.

_Around _and _around _and _around _and _around _and _around_.

He suddenly has the munchies.

He has them real _baaaad_.

"There! Take me to the kitchen!" He exclaims, pointing at the destination and commandeering his sea of people like a valiant Roman general. (THESE ARE HIS PEOPLE, DAMMIT!)

"Faster, slave!" Lovino bellows.

Oh God. There should totally be people trains. Crowd surfing trains.

_Dio_, that'd be _the shit_. You would be carried by a bunch of people, passing you over until you got to where you needed to be.

People trains. Amazing.

The moment they drop him off, he raids the cupboards and pulls out a bag of air.

AKA Lays.

He pulls it open, sitting on the counter and laughing as he stares blankly at the party before him, not eating the potato chips.

Oh God. Such _preeeeeetty_ colours.

* * *

Meanwhile, Henri's friend Malcolm slowly drives up the driveway to the Janssens mansion after a session of hardcore exam reviewing and a meeting with his Mathlete club.

Henri's light brown eyes widen in alarm; so do Malcolm's as they observe the spectacle before them in silent horror.

The mansion is a mess. There's debris everywhere.

And the music, it's practically reverberating, shaking the very foundations of the house!

Then a fat guy runs past them, buck naked. Streaking across the once-pristine lawn.

"Keep driving." Henri commands, eyes narrowed in urgency. "Hurry up, before they see us!"

They drive right back out of the mansion's gates.

* * *

It's nearing one AM and the party is still on-going. To say Lovino is drunk is an understatement— he's dead shit-faced. He's never been this drunk in his life before.

But fuck it. YOLO, right?

Perhaps this mindset is why he's in the midst of helping a few guys duct tape some poor, unfortunate fuck to the wall. The kid made the mistake of passing out on the couch, leaving himself completely vulnerable, and now, he was paying the price.

Many of the party-goers have either left or occupied one of the many guest rooms and closets.

Lovino's lost his clothes, but whatever.

The group of hooligans pull away to inspect their handiwork. The guy is firmly taped to the wall and he still hasn't woken up. Fucking priceless.

They jeer and laugh before drunkenly stumbling over to the dining area to play a game of Bullshit. This is the first time Lovino's ever drunk straight out of a box of wine. He would usually have enough know-how to critique the wine based on his own experience, but he's just too _drunk _right now to even register a goddamn thing.

Somehow, he managed to acquire a yellow Spongebob Squarepants necktie and fake neon pink Vans sunglasses. Little does he know that some of the cards in his hand are facing the other players, but it doesn't even matter no more.

A few of the others are still sober enough to take advantage on it, so when Lovino lies and someone calls bullshit on it, he complains incoherently in Italian— '_mangia merda, succhiacazzi_'— drunkenly reaches for the fairly thick stack of cards in the middle of the table and begrudgingly pulls it towards himself.

Shots are still going around, only instead of Vodka, it's whisky straight-up.

An hour later, Lovino isn't sure how long he can keep this up. The others aren't doing so good either.

Like flies, the last few people standing begin to drop face-first onto the table, totally and utterly schwasted.

But he, like the valiant and commandeering reincarnate of a Roman general he is, keeps on fighting the vision that is blurring, occasionally fading to black as he stumbles over someone's leg and crumbles down to the floor. He scrapes himself off the ground and aimlessly staggers around for several more minutes before all fades to black with a barely audible _thud_.

* * *

**Translations:**

_fratello _\- brother (It.)  
_si _\- yes (It./Esp.)  
_Dio mio _\- Oh my God (It.)  
_pendejo _\- asshole (Esp.)  
_Dio _\- God (It.)  
_Dio mi salvi _\- God save me (It.)  
_fratellone _\- older brother (It.)  
_per l__'__amore di Dio _\- for the love of God (It.)  
_magnifico _\- magnificent  
_mangia merda, succhiacazzi _\- eat shit, you fucking dick sucker (It.)

**Hey guys! Sorry for the late update. I just finished my midterms, and I got kinda stuck on a _lot _of the parts here for a while. I don't think anyone of you can fathom how _long _I've waited to use this song. _Can You Feel My Heart_, for me, is quintessentially _Romano__'__s song_. I've had this song and the weed-smoking thing in mind since before the plot for this story was ever even conceived. In the original scene, though, there was supposed to be a hot NedRoma make-out session. But then Scotmano happened, so there needn't any of that.**

**I would _really love _to hear from you guys~! What do you all think of how this story is progressing thus far? Am I doing well? Constructive criticism is welcome.**

**(_Dios mio _I thought this chapter would never end asfdjaskjfdsn)**

**~jellydonut16~**

**P.S. Some parts of high!Lovi was based on what I've witnessed in real life lol (AKA the laughing and the not eating Lays scene; only that was with barbecue-flavoured french fries and marshmallows the size of your fist).**

**P.P.S. _Please _review~! You know I'm serious bc I'm using italics. Maybe I should underline it too.**

**P.P.P.S. _Please_ review~! Ah, _there_. Magnifico.**


	12. twelve

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

**_Kicking the Bucket List_**

**twelve**

**"_Now I know what love is._"  
****— Virgil**

Okay. Keep calm, Feli.

There must be a _perfectly _good reason why** _fratello hasn__'__t come home yet_**, right?

_Right?!_

So… j-just keep calm~!

Yes! Calm! Perfectly calm~!

E-Even though Lovi **_isn__'__t picking up his phone_**.

Yep!

And even though Feli** _hasn__'__t the slightest idea where Lovi is, either_**.

Oh, God.

_Ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod._

Where _is _he?!

He's been gone all night!

Feliciano fidgeted around the apartment, pacing back and forth in worry. He _desperately _tries to avoid letting his mind wander to worst-case scenarios.

Okay. _Think_, Feli, _think_.

Where could Lovi be? Whom could he be with?

He pores over it for several seconds.

...Bella.

Maybe Bella would know, right? Since she and Lovi are friends?

Thing is, Feli doesn't have the blond Belgian's number. Who would..?

He racked his mind for friends and acquaintances that could possibly have Bella's number. She was popular in high school, after all. _Surely _some of them, _one _of them, would have her number, right?

The Italian sent out a group message asking for someone to text him Bella's number.

_Ding-dong~!_

Ve~ A response already? That was quick~! He checks his phone and ends up crestfallen.

Nothing yet.

_Ding-dong~!_

He then realises that it's the doorbell ringing. "Ve~ Just a second~!" He calls out, striding over to the front door. He opens it to reveal a beaming Antonio.

"_Buenos dias_, Feli~!" The Spaniard greets, jovially giving him a bouquet of an assortment of flowers. "For you~."

"_Grazie mille_," says Feliciano distractedly. Reluctantly, he slips his phone into his pocket before taking the bouquet of flowers into his dainty hands. He steps back to let Antonio in. "Come in! Make yourself at home."

Antonio hesitantly steps inside the apartment, glancing around the apartment for any trace of the other twin.

Nothing, no projectile fists assaulting him, no curses. It's quiet.

**(For a second, it's almost as if he _wants _to hear the older twin's voice breaking the silence.)**

Feli strides into the kitchen, pulling a vase out of a cupboard and filling it with water before sedulously placing the flowers in it. He feels Toni's emerald eyes on him, eyeing him expectantly.

"I just—" Feliciano starts, only to come to an abrupt halt. He looks at the flowers, meticulously fixing them a bit as he takes a deep, shaky breath. "I'm kind of distracted right now."

"Eh? What's wrong?" Toni asks, concern lacing his tone.

"It's Lovi, he— he hasn't come home yet. I mean, he's been out since yesterday, and I have _no idea _where he is, or with whom, or where he _could _be—" Again, his train of thought breaks. He turns to face the Spaniard. "Say, do you happen to have Bella's number?"

"'Bella'?" Antonio echoes, confused. The name was familiar, but where had he heard it before?

"_Si_, _si_!" Confirms Feliciano, nodding his head. "Bella! The blond girl Lovi is always with. You _have _seen her, I think."

Unbeknownst to himself, Antonio grows rigid in realisation. "Oh. _Si_, I have seen her before. But I don't have her number. _Lo siento_,"

Feli waves him off, but there are undertones of panic seeping into his words, anyway. "Oh! No, it's fine. It's fine~! _Perfectly _fine~. Don't worry about it."

Suddenly, his visage brightens exponentially. Maybe big brother Francis has her number~! They _were _in the drama club together in high school, after all! With renewed strength and vigour, he pulls his phone out and begins to sift through his contacts. He immediately calls Francis and feels a bit better already~!

"_Hello?__"_

"Ve~ Hi, big brother Francis~!"

Antonio glances up at the Italian, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. Feli catches his eye and beams, though Toni's heart fails to flutter the way it did before. Weird. Either way, he smiles back.

"_Ah, hello, Feliciano! Antoine is already there, I assume?__"_

"_Si_, he is! I was just wondering if you happen to have Bella's number."

A few seconds of silence follows before Francis answers, _"__Ah, _oui_, I do have her number, _mon petit _Feliciano~__" _Following that, the Frenchman rattled off the Belgian's phone number, which Feliciano scrawled down on the notepad attached to the fridge via magnet. The latter gives Francis his thanks before hanging up.

Feliciano does this happy dance around the kitchen, which Antonio finds absolutely _cute _and _adorable_. "What's up?" He chirps, getting up from the couch to make his way over to Feliciano.

"I got Bella's number from big brother Francis~!" The latter says, opening the fridge and pulling a Tupperware box out. "Ve~ I baked these the other day with Luddy~ Try some!" He hands it over to the Spaniard, who graciously takes it in his hands.

"Of course I will!" Toni says, setting the box down on the counter and popping it open.

"Okay. This call will only take a second. _Then _we can go."

"Sure, sure! Take your time~" Toni reaches in and grabs a chocolate chip cookie out, biting into it. Sure enough, it tasted _amazing_.

Feliciano dials the number, holding the phone to his ear. His heart rate picks up in anticipation.

And, thankfully enough, within several seconds, Bella picked up the phone.

* * *

"Hello?" Bella whispers from her position on the floor. She was supposed to be in her bed, but somehow, she passed out on the floor beside it instead.

"_Bella! Bella, Bella, Bella__—" _The aforementioned winces, holding the phone away from her at arm's length. Too loud. Too much falsetto. Her ears started ringing. Not good when you're on the verge of going through a hangover that had crawled out of the pits of tartarus.

"_Oh, thank God__— __is Lovi there? Like, is he with you right now? Because he wasn__'__t at home when I got back from dinner with my friends, and I tried calling him, but he wouldn__'__t answer, and he hasn__'__t come home yet, and I have no idea where he is, and I__'__m really, _really _worried!__"_

Her mind takes a moment to let the words sink in. Kinda. "Uh…" she starts, trying desperately to sit up despite her body's wishes to remain passed out on the floor. "Feli? 'S'at you?"

"_Si!__" _The younger Vargas chirps, _waaaay _too early for… for whatever time it was!

"Too loud," she whines, her head pounding already. "Um, wait. Let me think."

A flurry of images seize her memory, with blanks here and there. Did she really… _twerk _on top of the pool table like that? She grimaces. Ugh, forget that. Now is not the time to drown in regret. Maybe later, but not now.

"Yeah." Bella answers, "Lovi; he's here. I'm sure of it, he, like, came with me, after all."

"_Ve~ So what time will he get back home? Can I talk to him?__"_

"Look, Fel, I would _love _to drive him back home, but not right now. But, if you want, you can, like, pick him up from my place or something." The blond masks her eyes from the sunlight streaming into the room, trying hard not to doze off mid-confabulation as Feliciano spoke.

"_Ve~ That__'__d be great! Where do you live?__"_

Bella forces herself to _think _and remember her home address and relays it to Feliciano.

"_I__'__ll be there as soon as possible~!__"_

"Yeah, you do that."

"_See you in a few~!__"_

Then the brunette hangs up. A strangled sound between a sigh and a groan escapes her lips before she slumps back down on the floor.

* * *

The younger Vargas brother, elated because he _finally _knows where Lovi is, slipped his phone back into his pocket before turning to Antonio. "Ve~ Toni?"

Antonio turns to him, an eyebrow raised as he noms on another chocolate chip cookie. "Hm?"

"Um," Feli begins to fidget. "Would you mind if we pick Lovi up first? I'm sorry, _mi dispiace_, but I just— Lovi. I-It's Lovi."

"Of course not! I understand. Where's your _hermano_?" Toni says before taking a huge bite out of the cookie.

Feliciano heaves a huge sigh of relief. "Oh~. Lovi spent the night at Bella's house~!"

It was exactly at that moment when Antonio began to choke on the baked good.

The Spaniard's emerald eyes nearly popped out of his head as he started coughing bits of cookie out. He… He felt so— so very _upset_ and _hurt _and** _angry _**all of a sudden! Lovino was interested in men, wasn't he? Feli had said so himself!

…Wait, what?

Why did Antonio even _care _about the other twin's sexual orientation?

And why did he have this _urge _to somehow defenestrate Bella of all people..?!

Feli rushes over to him, firmly patting his back and breaking his train of quasi-nonsensical thoughts altogether.

A minute later, Antonio manages to cough out a "Wow, that's great! I guess you don't have to worry about him anymore, huh?"

"_Si_, _si_!" Feliciano concurs, vehemently nodding his head. "Say, Toni, do you know how to drive?"

Antonio cocks an eyebrow up at this. "_Si_, I do. Why?"

"I was wondering if you could drive me over to Bella's? I would do it myself, but I don't have a driver's licence."

"You _can _drive without one though~!" Antonio says. "Just as long as you don't get caught. Ahahahaha~"

Feli smiles at him. "Ve~ If you say so~!"

* * *

Not ten minutes later, the Range Rover pulled over to the side of the road.

The passenger-side door opens, and a nauseous Antonio stumbles out, clutching his knees for dear life. A groan escapes his unusually pallid lips.

Feli hops out of the car, frowning at him. "Ve~ Are you okay? You look kinda pale!"

A raspy, breathless laugh escapes the Spaniard's lips. "Ahahahaha~ Yeah! Of course I am! J-Just— Just give me a minute, okay? _Dios mio._"

He then starts to dry heave. But after five minutes, he's good to go.

"Alright. I'm good, I'm good."

Just as Feli is about to clamber onto the driver's seat, Antonio shrieks out in protest. "_NO! _I'll drive! _I__'__ll drive!** Please!**_"

Feli gives him a look, slightly nonplussed. "Okay then…"

* * *

It took them around thirty minutes to get to Bella's house, which was situated way across the other side of the city, where people raking in The Big Bucks lived.

Antonio drove past the gates that were left ajar and warily observed the catastrophic state of the mansion, his stomach churning at the prospect of seeing Lovino, but he wasn't sure if what he was feeling was either anticipation or dread.

They _had _gotten into a fight, after all… He gulped, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. He felt uneasy.

"Ve~ What happened here?" Feli found himself wondering out loud, peering out of the window. "It's like a tornado passed through!"

There were red cups, wrappers, and toilet paper _everywhere_, strewn all over the lawn in sporadic clumps. There were several deck chairs scattered around the place, an empty beer keg haphazardly left on the front porch.

Antonio rolls up to the front door and turns the ignition off. Feliciano calls Bella as he undos his seatbelt. This time, the blond took a little longer to answer, but did so nonetheless. _"__Yeah?__" _Came the Belgian's fatigued greeting.

"Bella, we're here~!"

"_Ah, yeah. Sure. Wait, let me just__—" _a laboured groan escapes her lips. _"—__get up and I__'__ll go__… __see you at the front of the house or something, mkai?__"_

"Sure~!"

And she hangs up.

Antonio gets out of the car so he can open the door for Feliciano. Bella soon appears at the front door after about a minute or so, her ensemble practically screaming '**nightclub**'.

"Hey," she whispers, voice raspy and laced with sleep. She slowly walks over to them as Feliciano hurriedly gets out, giving the blond a warm hug.

"Ve~ Hi, Bella!"

"Yeah." She blinks a couple of times before her icy green eyes come into focus and land on the Spaniard from yesterday. Her eyes grow even icier. "_You._" She says, hostility evident in her tone.

Antonio can't help but smirk at her. "_Hola_."

She looks as if she's about to question the Spaniard's presence, but instead opts to stay silent. Feliciano pulls away so she can lead them into the (currently not-so) grand manor.

"Sorry for the mess," she mumbles, kicking an empty beer can away. "I threw this _really _wild party last night and it was, like, _so fun_. But it was kinda too wild, I think. Ish." She throws her hands up. "Whatevs. Let's go look for Lovi."

So, indeed, the trio go 'Lovino Hunting', trying to pick him out of the rest of the people that had decided to crash at Bella's house.

"Lovi~? Lovi, are you there?" Feliciano asks, peering into a giant wooden chest. Bella's dad got it from some auction once. It was very old. It was also very _empty_.

Bella gave him a weirded-out look.

Antonio opted to stay back and stare, transfixed, at the pigsty that was and is Bella Janssens' house. And maybe gawk at the poor kid taped to the wall. _Dios mio._

He briefly performs the sign of the cross before following the brunette and the blond into what _seemed _to be the living room.

The latter pulls the phone out of the pocket of her daisy dukes, realising that she could've called him all along. Why didn't she think of it sooner?

Somewhere near the corner of the room, a phone begins to vibrate. She hurries over to it, Feliciano hot on her heels. Bella scrunches her eyebrows together, finding Lovino's jeans thrown over a lampshade.

"I found his pants." She says, voice a little more louder than earlier. She ends the call, grabbing the black jeans and handing it over to Feli. "Maybe we'll find him near it."

Antonio's eyes can't help but widen. So… Somewhere in this house, Lovi isn't wearing any pants? A bit of red dusts his sun-kissed cheeks at the thought.

After scouring the living room for Lovino's whereabouts, they find the room void of his presence. They then move to the kitchen, to the dining room, to all the other areas of the house. But he isn't in any of them.

Then they head upstairs and look through the rooms, oft discovering one too many unsightly 'surprises' within. God. Haven't they ever listened to _I Write Sins, Not Tragedies_ before?

'Haven't you people ever heard of closing the goddamn door?'

**_No one wants to see that shit, bro._**

Their 'Lovino Hunting' had proven futile thus far. Bella ran a hand through her matter hair out of frustration. Then she whimpered, because that, like, hurt a _lot_. How many bottles of conditioner would she have to use later _just _to get those pesky tangles out?! _Ugh._

Anyways, where the holy heck could he be?! He couldn't have _left_, right?

Haha. Left, right.

But now is not the time for digressing.

_Obviously_, this means that there can only be one more place he could be in, if he hadn't left.

* * *

"…You mean to say that Lovi is passed out _outside_?" Feliciano asks, amber eyes wide in disbelief.

"That's what I said! Like, where _else_ could he be, right?" Bella replies, slowly walking down the stairs. Her legs still felt like Jell-O, okay? "He isn't in the house, now, is he?"

They started from the front of the house, taking a good look in the bushes and gazebo. When they finally reached the back of the manor— _which took them a long ass time, by the way_—Bella finally, _finally _found the _ever-elusive _Italian.

Lovino.

There he was.

In his natural habitat.

Passed out in the bushes, clad in naught but his boxers, a yellow Spongebob necktie, and a white faux fur coat befitting a pimp. One arm was curled up around an armful of branches in a protective embrace as his other arm lay limp beside his person.

_Glorious._

Bella snorts at the sight, making her way over to him. "Lovi? Lovi," she says, nudging his leg with her foot. She nudged him a bit more harder.

Lovino was out like a light.

"Guys," she calls out to Feliciano and Antonio, her voice cracking at the end. She inwardly winces. "I found him."

She then wondered why Lovi was cuddling a bunch of sticks.

Alcohol does really weird stuff to people, huh?

Immediately, the two rush over; Bella automatically gives them ample berth to pass through and assess Lovino's, er, _condition _themselves.

The Spaniard stepped forward and couldn't help but feel something heady crash down upon him all of a sudden. For the nth time around the enigmatic older twin, he found it hard to breathe.

Antonio's eyes couldn't help but glide down Lovino's half-naked form, over the Vargas' smooth, firm stomach and down to the red plaid boxers that were riding oh-so _dangerously _low on the Italian's slender hips, his hipbones jutting out and creating an enticing gap wide enough for a hand to slip through…

He didn't know _why_, but he wanted so badly, _oh_-so badly to run his hands up and down Lovino's sides before settling on those tantalising hipbones.

The Italian's torso was a blank canvas, a few shades off of pure snow. In a way, they were absolutely _begging _to be marked, be it with love marks or tattoos.

Antonio's head spun, discombobulated with the onslaught of thoughts he didn't know what to think of— he didn't even know where they _came _from. His cheeks were reddening, so he forced himself to turn away.

It got a little bit easier to breathe, but only by a fraction.

Feliciano knelt down beside his brother, lightly slapping the older's face. "Ve~ _Fratello_, wake up~! Rise and shine, Lovi!"

The other twin did not stir; not one bit.

He really _was _out like a light~!

Ve~ This is going to be a problem, isn't it?

* * *

"Okay, so how do we get _fratello _into the car? He won't wake up!" Feliciano asks no one in particular. He gets on his knees and tries to lift him up, grunting at how heavy the other is, before inadvertently letting go. The beloved pile of sticks falls to the ground as his head unceremoniously _thunked _against the soft grass.

Bella shrieked.

Just as Feli rolls his sleeves up, adamant on trying again, Bella cuts in, freaking out. "Feli, no! Wait!"

Feliciano glances up at her inquisitively.

She grimaces sheepishly, "Look, I don't think that's a good idea. You might drop him again. You wouldn't want that to happen, would you?"

Pouting slightly, the younger twin slowly shook his head. "Th-then… What should we do?"

Bella sits beside Lovino's unconscious body, gently running her hand through his sweaty brown locks. "Uh… To be honest, I don't even know. Maybe wait for him to wake up or something?"

Antonio glowered at the intimate gesture, his person practically radiating hostility.

"Ve~ But Toni and I have something to do today!" Feliciano whines, expression distraught. Suddenly, his face brightens. "Ooh! Ooh! I have an idea!" He turns to Antonio, who quickly snaps out of his trance and beams at the younger Italian. "Toni, you can help us carry Lovi to the car!"

Two pairs of green eyes promptly widened at the proposition. Bella regarded the Spaniard suspiciously. Ugh, this guy has '**BAD NEWS**' written all over him!

Just as Antonio is about to assent the proposition, Bella cuts in, crossing her arms over her chest. "I think that's a bad idea."

Antonio and Bella's eyes meet—both narrowed—and their hackles are raised.

"Why?" Asks Feliciano.

"He might drop Lovi. On _purpose_. Like, hello, they got into a _fistfight _yesterday. There is _no _way he isn't going to try and get back at Lovi. _I__'__m _just looking out for him!"

"Yeah, well, I wont~!" Antonio exclaims, walking over to the dozing Italian.

"Come on, Fel, I'll bring him home myself. You have _nothing _to worry about."

"B-But I want to take Lovi home already!" Argues Feliciano. "And we're already here!"

_Touch__é__._

Bella begrudgingly contemplates it for a few seconds before a burdened sigh escapes her lips. "Alright. _Fine. _But just so you know?" She gives the Spaniard a warning glare. "You drop Lovi and I will _so _kick your ass."

"Don't worry~!" Feliciano chirps, voice saccharine yet it contained undertones of warning (threat). "He _won__'__t_~."

Bella stood up and stepped back.

Antonio resolutely nodded, getting down on his knees so he could pick Lovino up properly. His face had started to heat up, his heart rapidly pounding against his ribcage. Licking his lips, he slowly glances up at Lovino and is immediately hit with a pang of guilt upon seeing discoloured skin mottling the Italian's sun-kissed cheeks.

…O-Oh, God.

_He _did that.

His throat constricts, trying to force the thoughts to go away, but the guilt doesn't leave him. Instead, he tries to focus on the task at hand. Carefully, oh-so carefully, he scoops Lovino into his arms, his breath hitching as he brought the other closer to his body. The moment their skin comes in contact, it's like every touch sets his skin on fire, yet Lovino's body is so comfortably warm.

Antonio can feel his cheeks warming up as he manages to stand up. Lovino's lighter than he expected. He adjusts his grip on the Italian, pulling him closer to his chest. He doesn't stir.

"Be careful," Feli says, yet it's as if he's far away. His voice is too faint for Antonio to comprehend. All he can focus on is Lovino.

He walks into the house through the backdoor, passes through the kitchen, and goes out through the front, careful not to drop the boy in his arms. The entire time, Feli and Bella were following closely behind them, which was just as well, because every so often, Antonio's eyes would flicker down to the Italian in his arms, unhearing and unresponsive; in a daze.

He felt regret and nervousness gnawing at him as they fast approached the car. His steps slowed down as he grew reluctant to let the older Vargas go.

Before he knows it, Feliciano goes ahead and opens the backdoor to the parked car. Antonio bites his bottom lip, shifting Lovino a bit as he tries to discern how to get him into the car without bumping his head into anything. That'd wouldn't be nice.

He hesitantly shifts to the side, getting both of them in the car sideways. With one knee down on the seat, he gently lays the Italian down, nearly straddling the boy.

It's like time has slowed down to a halt.

Antonio doesn't register anything around him other than the Italian in front of him. His heart skips a beat as he leans in closer 'til he can feel Lovino's faint breaths mingling with his, fixing his sleeping position lest his neck aches when he wakes up.

Discreetly, the Spaniard ghosts the tips of his fingers over the contusions on Lovino's cheek, his jaw. His skin is soft. The bruises must've made his skin more tender.

Somehow, the gets a grip on himself when his mind begins screaming at him that he's lingered for too long. It rolls over him like a heat wave; he suddenly feels dizzy. His mind is spinning, he's short of breath.

He quickly pulls back, the nerves on the surface of his skin tingling, as if kindled into a roaring fire that blazed every graze of Lovino's skin onto— no, _into_— his.

He exits the car backwards, his breaths coming out in short pants. Bella and Feliciano don't notice; they're busy talking.

The Spaniard gets into the driver's seat, staring at Lovino's sleeping form through the rearview mirror with hazy green eyes.

"Lovino," he mutters under his breath. He quickly glances out of the window. The other two are still talking.

"Lovino," he says again, a bit more louder. The Italian still does not stir.

He decides he likes the way Lovino's name rolls off his tongue.

* * *

Back at the Vargas brothers' apartment, Antonio had the prospect of carrying Lovino back up to his apartment and to the safety of his bed.

Lovino's bedroom is somewhat messy, but it's an organised type of chaos. Feliciano is in the kitchen, intent on getting medicine for his brother's recuperation when he wakes up. He had also tugged the pimp coat and necktie off of his brother in favour of the soft duvet.

Antonio was left in the hall, emerald eyes alternating between the sweet, cute Italian bustling around the kitchen and his truculent, bewildering older brother passed out in the bedroom.

Feli quickly sets some pills and a bottle of water atop Lovi's bedside table before returning to Toni, closing the bedroom door behind him. "Ve~ Sorry if I took too long~. Let's go!"

The Spaniard, once again broken out of his trance, immediately nods and exits the apartment with Feliciano.

* * *

Lovino had awoken sometime in the afternoon. Everything _hurt_. His head was absolutely pounding; it was like someone decided to use a potato cannon on his head for target practice, point-blank. His mind was already spinning and he hadn't even opened his eyes yet.

He was forced to, however, once the nausea finally caught up to him and hit him like a potato to the face. Despite his body's protests, he shot up from the bed nonetheless and ran to the bathroom as quickly as his stumbling feet could take him.

It was a relief that he found the toilet _just _in time. He sunk to his knees, gripping the rim of the toilet and retching his stomach's contents into it. His knees ached and throbbed at the sudden contact with the cold, hard tile, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. Not when he was puking his guts out.

The sound of his vomiting reverberated throughout the bathroom's tiled walls. Before he could even register it, footfalls were fast approaching his bedroom. Someone came in.

"Oh, no— _Lovi!_" Feliciano exclaimed, his voice a painful, shrilly treble to the over-sensitive ears of his older brother. He began to rub circles onto Lovino's naked back. "Oh, God. It's okay. It's okay. Everything will be okay."

Several minutes of praying to the porcelain god had passed. Lovino began to spit out the rest of the sour, rancid taste the sick left on his tongue, his sickly pallor betrayed by the burning of his cheeks due to a mix of both embarrassment and shame. He was left gasping for air as the waves of nausea slowly lapsed into mild discomfort.

"Lovi," Feliciano starts, hesitantly; quietly— as if he were afraid Lovino would break or spontaneously combust at any moment. He— the latter— hated it. Then again, he hated nearly everything. "A-Are… Are you okay?"

What a stupid question.

The older Vargas, gripping onto the porcelain throne for dear life, could only give a terse shake of the head as he slumped back, his head painfully hitting the wall behind him. Fuck, that hurt like _shit_.

Feliciano knelt down beside his disgrace of a brother, helping him sit up more properly.

Lovino grimaced, dry heaving the nauseousness away. "God," he panted out, his temples throbbing in pain. His throat was dry as hell. It hurt to talk, but he did, anyway. "I am _fucking hungover_. What do _you _think, Sherlock?"

Fucking hell. Just _how much _did he drink last night..? How the holy hell did he end up back at home?!

It hurt to think.

Thinking sucks.

F-_Fuck_.

"Do you want to take a shower first, Lovi?" The younger twin asks.

After a second of contemplation, he slowly shook his head once— too fast or too much would send his mind spinning once more.

Lovino catches on quickly. He could literally smell himself. The scent of sweat and alcohol clung to his skin like a neurotic ex-lover. It sure as fuck wasn't a very nice combination, to say the least.

He manages to scrape himself off of the floor and he flushes the toilet twice. He decides to name it _The Flush of Shame_. He rinses his mouth out by the sink before the younger Vargas helps him back to the bed, where Lovino is content to crawl into his duvet cocoon and sleep forever.

"Ve~ You really had me worried, _fratello_," Feliciano softly says, getting into bed with him. The older twin suddenly stiffens at the unexpected physical contact before going lax with exhaustion.

He says nothing in response.

There was no need for one.

Feli flings his arm over Lovi's waist as he hugs him from behind. "I'm sorry, Lovi," he whispers into Lovino's skin, giving it a chaste, apologetic kiss. "For all the things I said yesterday."

The latter murmurs something along the lines of 'mkjshfhjskjdl'. Feliciano can't understand a word of it, but the feeling of the vibrations from his brother's back as he spoke upon his cheek comforts him. At least Lovi was back at home, safe and sound, _si_?

* * *

It's seven in the evening when Lovino wakes up again. The room is dark and the room is so sweltering hot, the sheets are practically _suffocating _him, clinging to his sweaty skin. He needs to breathe.

His muscles ache and his skin tingled with hyper-sensitivity. He winced, throwing the duvet off of him, post-haste. Forcing himself to sit up lest he double up and throw up, he cradles his head in his trembling hands.

What… What the fuck _happened _last night?

A groan escapes his lips, vague images from last night creeping up the back of his mind, but he still couldn't exactly remember anything concrete other than the fact that: a.) he got really fucking _wasted_ and b.) he got to smoke weed for the first time.

He could only hope that he didn't do anything _too _stupid.

Lovino tentatively gets out of bed and into the shower. He really needed a shower and _badly_. Yuck.

After a good thirty minutes of standing under the warm water, lost in his thoughts, he uses five more to actually bathe before getting out. He changes into something clean and he feels somewhat better. _Somewhat._

Lovino spots the painkillers and the glass of water by his bedside table and inwardly thanks his _fratello_, downing the two pills in one go.

He still feels like shit, though. His head ached, but, honestly, he's had worse.

_Way_ worse.

Like that one time he and Feliciano were at some brat's shitty party and he was standing a _tad_ too near the piñata.

Let's just say that he avoids baseball with a fiery passion and let's leave it at that.

The brunette pulls the bucket list out of his bedside table's drawer and hazel eyes skim the list. He then shoves it into the pocket of his jeans so he can make himself a hangover cure.

The TV is on; he can see Feliciano sitting on the couch watching Adventure Time. His eyes narrow in confusion. That was odd. Feli is rarely ever home on the weekends, _much less _on Saturday nights.

"What're you doing here?" Lovino blurts out.

Immediately, Feliciano turns to look at him before getting off the couch. "Ve~ You're awake!"

Just as the younger twin goes in for a hug, the older step back, hands defensively raised up in front of him. "Why are you here?"

His _fratellino_, dejected, pouts at him. "Why not? I live here."

Lovino resists the urge to facepalm, opting to give his twin an incredulous look. "_No_, like, why are you _here_? It's a Saturday night, dammit. You're never home on Saturday nights. How the hell did I end up back here, anyway? You know what? _Whatever. _I don't give a shit. You could've dragged me back here for all I care."

He shuffles over to the kitchen, rummaging through the liquor cabinets for vodka.

"Drinking again, _fratello_?" Feli asks.

"_No._" Answers Lovino, grabbing a carton of tomato juice and a small bottle of Tabasco hot sauce out of the fridge. "I'm making a Bloody Mary, dammit— now leave me alone!"

"Lovi, _mi dispiace_!" The younger twin apologised, his guilt a leaden weight in the pit of his stomach. "What I said, it was in the heat of the moment. Please forgive me?"

The older Vargas stared at him evenly, mild annoyance hidden within the depths of his hazel eyes. They had a stare-off that lasted several seconds before Lovino looked away, scoffing. "Tch, whatever, bastard."

Feliciano hugs him. And, reluctantly, Lovino hugs back.

* * *

In the comfort of his bedroom later that evening, Lovino ticked the box beside **Try smoking weed (YOLO?) **and stared at it for one second, two seconds.

It had lapsed into nearly a full minute when Lovino decided that he didn't know what or how to feel. Like, he crossed something off his freaking _bucket list_. Shouldn't he feel accomplished or something? Then again, with his shitty hangover added into the mix, he certainly wasn't getting any 'fuck yeah' vibes at the moment.

And there it goes again with the quasi-okayishness; constantly reeling him out, only to push him back in the recesses of his mind's innermost workings.

He slowly, languidly sipped on his drink, all the whilst pulling his Moleskine notebook out of his backpack; his 'journal' to-be for Creative Writing class. He hadn't written much yet. And by 'much', he meant that he hadn't written anything in it yet at _all_.

B-But... _now _would be a good time to start, _si_?

He set the tall glass down on his desk, cracking the notebook open and running the tips of his fingers over the smooth paper. He holds a page between his fingers, already knowing it was of high quality. The Italian reached into his backpack and pulled out a pen. The moment he tried to commit his thoughts to paper, he found himself blanking out.

It's funny how your mind just blanks out the moment its supposed to write out what it feels, or what it's thinking.

His eyes narrowed, thinking of something to fill the blank space with.

And so, he began to write.

**I really don't know what to do.**

**What do I even write about?**

**Okay. How about this:**

**Dear Diary~  
Last night, I got really, really DRUNK and I now have a hangover from the depths of hell. I'm not kidding. I feel like banging my head against the wall until I pass out, slip into a coma, and never wake up again. Yep. Pure fun.**

**I am NEVER drinking that much ever again. Which is a lie. I'm even drinking NOW.**

**I got into an argument with my brother yesterday. Maybe that's why I decided to get drunk off my ass. But #YOLO, right?**

**When in doubt, #YOLO**

**When about to commit a felon, #YOLO**

**When about to do something you will inevitably regret, #YOLO**

**Amazing, isn't it? It's like the quintessential excuse of the 21st century.**

**What a time to be alive.**

**But I still feel like shit about it though tbh smfh**

Lovino pulls away to examine what he's written, only to grimace. Goddammit, can't he write anything _better _than this?

How does he _really _feel, dammit?

Just fucking _write it out already_.

And so he does.

**It's funny how people can quickly change how you feel with words. Depending on who they are and what they mean to you, the words they say can make or break your day/week/life. That is the power of words. "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me" is a stupid lie because the effect and power of words on people can cause scars that hurt more than any physical wound can bring.**

**But that's just me.**

* * *

Meanwhile, Antonio was in the midst of derping around on Facebook— well, at least he _planned _to—in the living room of the apartment he shared with his two best friends.

Gilbert was in the kitchen, making himself an 'awesome sandwich'; Francis was out and about somewhere.

"How was your date with Feli-cakes? Was it awesome?" Gilbert asks, placing his impressively stacked sandwich on the coffee table with one hand, nursing a beer in the other.

A nervous laugh escapes Antonio's lips. "Ahaha~ It was _great_! Amazing!"

"I need the deets, dude. What'd Lovino say when you showed up? _Gott_, I'll bet he threw a _huge bitch fit_! Kesesesesesese!"

"Um, right! About that," Antonio logs into Facebook. He looked sheepish. "Lovino, he; he wasn't at home, so..."

The page loads. He ignores all his notifications and types Lovino's name into the search bar; hits 'Enter'.

"Well," he glances up at Gilbert for a second before his eyes flicker back down to the screen. It's still loading, so he meets the self-proclaimed Prussian's eyes again. "Y-Yeah~. He wasn't there. So Feli got worried, _si_? So he called Franny and asked him for Bella's number."

He glances back down. The screen has loaded. His breath hitches upon seeing Lovino's face on his screen.

"Um..." He scrolls down and clicks on Lovino's profile picture. It's a selfie with Feliciano, who is also the one who took the picture. Lovino looks considerably younger, with chubbier cheeks that looked absolutely enticing to pinch. He can't help but smile. "Just a sec, I'm thinking~. Ahaha~"

Lovino doesn't have any statuses made public, but he can see the posts Feliciano's tagged him with because Toni has him as a mutual friend. There are also a _lot _of pictures Lovino is tagged in, probably from the party he went to last night, thanks to Elizabeta, whose posts are always set to public.

He slowly scrolls down Lovino's wall, catching a glimpse of the Italian's face. He quickly scrolls up, his cheeks tinged a subtle red. "Yeah~! So, where was I? Right~. So Feli gets Bella's number from Franny and..." he scrolls down again. He feels like melting; Lovino's actually _smiling _in this picture. Granted, his sclerae are unusually red, but _still_.

_Dios mio_, it shouldn't be legal for anyone to look that good smiling— wait, what?

"...Feli called her. She said Lovino was at her house, so Feli wanted to pick him up and I went with him."

He discreetly saves the image onto his laptop. The Spaniard scrolls down a bit more and he sees a picture of Lovino dancing in the middle of the dance floor, sandwiched between two scantily-dressed girls, who are clinging to him like he's their lifeline. Their hair is splayed out in an almost artsy fashion. Antonio's insides churn in burning, seething jealousy.

"Toni. You're stalking _Lovino_? Really?" Gilbert asks, disbelief and disapproval evident in his tone from behind Antonio. The latter jumps in surprise, instinctively turning the laptop away.

"It's not what you think!" Antonio exclaims. "I was just, ah, considering adding him as a friend or something!"

"Are you kidding me? After what happened yesterday? There's no way in _hell _he'd ever add you." Gilbert leant down and peered at Lovino's profile. The Shift was happening sooner than he and Francis expected, but he tries not to think about that too much. "But try anyway! It's not like you have anything to lose! Kesesesese~"

With that, Antonio reluctantly clicks on '**Add Friend**'.

* * *

Later that night, Feliciano remembered to give Lovino back his cellphone, so the latter decided to check his Facebook. He's always logged in, even if he seldom uses his account. To his surprise, there were a _lot _of notifications, messages and friend requests.

W-What the fuck..?

He pressed on the notifications button and gawked at what came up.

**'Lisbeth Hedervary tagged you in 119 photos'.**

**'Lisbeth Hedervary tagged you in a video'.**

**'Bella Janssens tagged you in a post'.**

In complete and utter mortification, he forced himself to press the first one. A status by Elizabeta came up about the party at Bella's house yesterday, with _him _as the fucking _center of attention _in those photos.

He felt like he was having a stroke.

_Dio mio._

He sifted through the pictures in horror, though thankful nobody had commented on the derpier-looking photos of him. Dear God, some of these pictures of him were so terrible, you could practically make fucking _memes _out of them.

Hesitantly, he decides to play the video Elizabeta tagged him in.

Well, shit.

**SHIT.**

His jaw dropped in shock. In the video, he was half-naked, krumping wildly and inadvertently hitting other peoples' faces. Annoyed, they gave him a wide space to freely krump around in.

...Holy fucking shit.

He facepalmed himself in disbelief, feeling a migraine coming; shit is _embarrassing as fuck_.

He decides to check his friend requests before he succumbs to inspecting each and every post he's been tagged in.

His eyes narrow at the first one.

**'Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo**'.

The fucking _nerve _of that jerk!

Licking his lips, a small smirk tugs at the corner of Lovino's lips as he decides to post something directed to the Spaniard, the status set to public.

**real eyes  
****realise  
that ur a lil bitch**

He felt nefarious already.

* * *

**Translations:  
**_fratello _\- brother (It.)  
_buenos dias _\- good morning (Esp.)  
_grazie mille _\- thank you very much (It.)  
_si _\- yes (It./Esp.)  
_lo siento _\- I'm sorry (Esp.)  
_oui _\- yes (Fr.)  
_mon petit _Feliciano - my little Feliciano (Fr.)  
_hermano _\- brother (Esp.)  
_Dios mio _\- oh my God (Esp.)  
_hola _\- hello (Esp.)  
_fratellino _\- younger brother (It.)  
_mi dispiace _\- I'm sorry (It.)  
_Gott _\- God (Dt.)  
_Dio mio _\- oh my God (It.)

**Sooooo sorry for the delayed update! I had two baby theses to assess, as well as other academically-related things. It kinda sucked my brain juice dry tbh #collegelyfe**

**Thank you for all the reviews~! I AM A HAPPY DONUT**

**But tbh it kinda threw me off because I'm scared to disappoint you all now /slapped**

**Thankfully, I kinda got over that :D Ish.**

**Hope you enjoyed this chapter~! _Please_ review~!**

**Feel free to give me concrit. Was Toni in-character? Was Lovi? How about everyone else?**

**~jellydonut16~**

**P.S. heads-up: this story will obviously have some depressing themes; so when the going gets tough(er), I'll start putting up trigger warnings before the start of every chapter.**

**P.P.S. Ah~ pseudo-pervert!Antonio. One of the _many_ reasons why this fic is rated M.**


	13. thirteen

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

**_Kicking the Bucket List_**

**thirteen**

**"_I__'__m sitting on the rings of  
__saturn with my feet dangling  
__down into infinity but I__'__m not  
__quite ready to jump into the  
__unknown._**

**_I__'__m sitting on the rings of saturn  
__with my feel dangling down  
__into infinity but I__'__m only  
__thinking about you._"**  
**—.**

Ah, Mondays.

They _suck_.

It's practically a universal truth.

No matter who you are, or what you do for a living, or how rich you are, chances are, your Mondays will always suck a little more than the other days. Even _if _you're Bill Gates. But maybe except if you're, like, Beyoncé or something.

Lovino had just recovered from the hangover from hell, thank God. But still, he felt a little more irritable than usual because he had to cut back a few hours of actual sleep (AKA the sleep you get when you _aren__'__t _trying to sleep off a hangover; the sleep you get when you're actually trying to rest) in order to finish his homework.

Feliciano had to wake him up that morning because his phone's alarm didn't go off (AKA he slept through his three alarm clocks), he missed breakfast, and on top of that, he had freaking _math class _as the first period for the day with the Spanish bastard.

So basically, his day has gone to shit before it's even begun.

"Ve~ Lovi, I packed you a sandwich! You can eat it on the way." Feliciano says as Lovino locks their apartment door behind him.

"What're you, my mom?" Scoffs Lovino, clearly in a sour mood. He takes the sandwich anyway.

Together, they jog down the stairs because some dickwad already took the elevator down. Then again, they were only on the third floor, but fuck that shit.

Feliciano's already noticed the way Lovino was glowering at the main entrance of the building as if expecting what— or _who_— was to come.

Ve~ After having brunch with Toni last Saturday, Feliciano began to have a hunch that Antonio… _may _have A Thing for Lovi, if the Spaniard's incessant prying and interrogating regarding his older brother's life was any indication.

Which it probably was— Feli was no stranger to the mysterious ways of _amore_. Somehow, the more his brother tried to shield him from the woes that came with _amore_, the more he— Feliciano— was susceptible to falling in it. He had loved and lost, but that's never stopped him from loving again.

To love is to take a risk. To love is to sacrifice.

He distinctly remembers the way Toni's emerald eyes would practically sparkle with every mention of Lovino's name. Somehow, the discussion of Lovi's drinking habits gave way to discussion about Lovi's habits in general, to what he does at home, and about Lovino himself.

Feliciano didn't particularly mind that Toni had abruptly stopped showering him with attention and opted to shower Lovi with it instead— he found that he rather liked it that way, as it kinda lessened the guilt he felt about not returning Antonio's affections in _That Way_.

Now Lovi can return them to Toni instead~!

…T-Though he seriously doubted Lovi would ever want anything to do with Antonio— especially after The Fight Last Friday. But maybe someday~ After all, Toni is a really nice guy, si? He could really be good for Lovi~!

The twins exit the building, the Spaniard they were expecting already outside, waiting for them.

"_Buenos dias_~!" Antonio greets, smiling at Feliciano before beaming at Lovi, his emerald eyes gleaming with hopefulness.

Lovino doesn't pay the brunette any mind, too engrossed in his phone (he was having an all-caps argument with Elizabeta via iMessage) to give a shit. The Spaniard's face falls a bit, but within seconds, the smile is back on his face again.

He eagerly follows the older Italian, "Hi, Lovino!"

The former flinches as the latter gives him a particularly hateful glare, a clenched fist threateningly raised. "Fuck off, bastard. I almost beat your ass then, I can beat your ass now."

Feliciano can't help but feel sympathetic as Antonio steps back, arms half-raised up in a gesture of compliance and surrender. "About that, Lovino, I— _Lo siento_. I never meant to retaliate in any way."

He pauses for a second, sees if Lovino has anything to say. There is no response, so Antonio keeps on going. "A-And I know that you probably didn't mean to punch me—"

The older Vargas brother stops dead in his tracks, looking at the Spaniard incredulously. "What the hell are you insinuating; that I punched you by accident? Dead on the face?" He chuckles, albeit sarcastically. "You dumbass. Of _course _I meant to sock your sorry little face in—"

"Ooh, look~! A car!" Feliciano quickly intervenes, pointing at one of the many parked cars lining the sides of the street.

Lovino gives him a weirded-out look, only to shrug his shoulders, roll his eyes and walk away. "It's way too early for this shit, dammit. I swear to God. Shut the fuck up— both of you."

Antonio hesitantly reaches into his backpack, his hand lingering on the box of chocolates he intended to give to Lovino as a means of saying 'sorry', only to find himself unable to muster the courage to hand it over to him.

_Dios mio_, why did it seem so hard?

Toni was no stranger to courting others through gift-giving— it was _very _effective, actually~!

B-But… _Why_ did he freeze up just now, when he wasn't even trying to win Lovino over?

Ah~ He had almost forgotten. The wall. The gap that separated him and the Italian beside him.

The untouchable-ness.

He never realised how much it bothered him until now.

* * *

Awkward silence. That's all it was the entirety of the math class Antonio had with Lovino.

Pure awkward silence.

Lovino was nothing but hostile— every single time Antonio tried to talk to the irritated Italian, he would always get shot down.

He— Antonio— felt desperate in a way. Like the situation was out of his control (which it probably was), and he didn't know what to do, and he didn't know how to make anything— let alone _everything_— better.

He wanted to make amends with Lovino _so badly_— but he can't. Because Lovino won't let him.

It's very frustrating!

Every so often, though, when Lovino happened to be paying attention to the professor or to his writing, Antonio's eyes would linger on the older Italian's form, just admiring him.

He feels as if he could stare at Lovino all day if he could.

And, as of Saturday night, he already has. He saved whatever he could of Lovino's photos from Facebook onto his phone and laptop.

Lovino's third profile picture on Facebook is currently his wallpaper~.

…Don't tell him that, _por favor_. Antonio's got a hunch that if Lovino were to get even the slightest gist of how much the Spaniard's Facebook-stalked him, he'd get much more than a punch to the face.

Which would be bad.

Very bad~.

* * *

The moment algebra came to an end, Lovino was quick to gather up his belongings and leave as quickly as possible.

Toni, however, had other things in mind.

"Lovino, can I talk to you?" He says, shifting about nervously. Which is odd. He rarely ever got nervous about _anything_.

Why did he feel this way around him? Like he was out of his comfort-zone in a way?

Maybe it was because he knew nothing about Lovino? That he was a loose-cannon; he didn't know how Lovino would react?

_Dios_, he felt like a fish out of water.

His palms started to sweat as he licked his lips.

No response. Did he not hear him or..?

Just as he opens his mouth to reiterate his question, Lovino pipes up, his voice clipped and hoarse. "No."

Antonio's chest clenched in pain. He was rejected… _to talk_! He only wanted to talk.

Right?

But why did he feel so dispirited all of a sudden?

Lovino slung his backpack over his shoulder, hazel eyes focussed on the Spaniard, narrowed in both a mix of suspicion and wariness as he made his way out of the room

"O-Okay! Right! I'll see you around, then!" Antonio calls out, beaming at the Italian. Though it falters a bit when Lovino looks away, giving him a middle-fingered salute as a response.

* * *

That evening, after class hours had long passed, was to be the Performing Arts Society's first general assembly of the year. The ever-charismatic committee of the PAS had coaxed the students into attending the seven PM orientation with promises of fun, excitement, and most importantly, food. People, more often than not, only attended because of the latter.

Free food.

'Course, it was mandatory that freshmen participate in the meeting— they would be helping out the graduating class with their plays since, overall, they had the biggest semblance of free time, whereas majority of the sophomores and juniors would be at the very zenith of honing their capabilities and perfecting their respective crafts, thus having the least time available to help out.

Those who wish to volunteer, however, are very much welcome!

Lovino found himself being ushered into one of Evergreen Hollows' smaller performance halls for the general assembly by none other than Bella (followed by the rest of the squad, of course).

"Ooh~ I am _so _excited!" She exclaimed right into his ear. He growled in irritation at the volume and weakly elbowed her side. He missed. "This year is going to be _so _fun."

"You find everything fun," Lovino deadpans. "You're just like Feliciano that way."

"We-_ell_~ That's because I get high off of life~! Not recreational drugs~."

For fuck's sake. Not _this _again.

"Fuck you. Can't you drop it already?"

"Nope. Never!"

Lovino whips around to point an accusing finger at Elizabeta. "This is all _your _fault, dammit!"

She feigns innocence. "What? Me? How is it _my _fault?" Her lips curl up into a sly grin. "Um, hello? I'm a _photographer_. Taking pictures is what I do."

"That's rich." Lovino snorts, rolling his eyes. "You— You made a fucking _meme _out of me! A-And— And you had the _nerve_— the fucking **_audacity_**— to post it on goddamn 9gag!"

No, seriously. She did. She took this derpy photo of him, where his eyes were half-open and his sclerae were red, and this fucking _ridiculous _dopey grin on his face. Fucking disgusting. T-Then, she cropped it and captioned it with:

'"hey, u still up?"

nothing much' and 'I can hear colours'. She even posted it on Instagram **(#whenuknowufaded)**, that fucking bitch. It was _also _one of the many reasons why Lovino was in such a terrible mood today.

She is _not _fit to own a camera. Who knows how many more lives she'll ruin? How many more people she'll piss off? Then again, she'll have it coming to her the moment her flagrant invasions of privacy come to bite her back in the ass.

Karma's a bitch that way.

"Hey— At _least _it didn't get viral." Liz rationalised, "Plus, you gotta admit— it was hella funny."

The two continued their bickering until they were seated in the last two rows of plastic chairs after signing their attendance sheets. The nonsense came to an abrupt halt when Lovino called her a 'perverted psychopathic bitch' and she threatened him with physical retaliation via her favourite red non-stick frying pan from the Martha Stewart collection.

"Oh my God." Feliks says, fanning himself with his hand. "Is it just me, or is it, like, _totally _hot in here? I can, like, feel the heat seeping into the depths of my soul. Doesn't this room have any AC?"

"That's so deep," Michelle comments. She then shows him her phone. "What do you think of this pic? I'm gonna post it on Instagram as my OOTN (AKA outfit-of-the-night)."

Feliks takes a glance at it and goes, "Don't worry! You are _so _totally working this outfit!"

"My legs though," she says, glancing down at her toned legs, grabbing her calves through the fabric of her faded skinny jeans. As a performing arts student, she will be taking up acting with specialisation in all types of dancing— Broadway-worthy stuff— and she's been dancing as long as she could remember.

Starting out with ballet as a child, her style evolved to the tempestuous and seductive styles of Latin dance before mellowing to modern dance and various waltzes. As of recent, she's been dancing to hip-hop and street jazz, but underneath all that, the ballet's never stopped.

And because of that, her calves, in her opinion, were _huge_.

"Chelle, your legs are fine. And by fine, I mean _f-i-n-e_!" Says the Pole.

"F-Feliks, can I go now? I have homework to catch up on, and I'm not even in the PAS!" Toris finally speaks up from beside the blond.

Feliks faked a gasp of mortification. "Seriously? After all the trouble we went through just to sneak you in? Um, like, no way."

Amidst all this ruckus, Lovino kinda zones out, unresponsive and quiet. He's in that trance-like stage between being too sleepy to stay awake, but too awake to sleep. Sort of like suspended animation, only with his brain.

This— the zoning out— happens often. He doesn't know why.

Bella is shaking his shoulder, altogether shaking him out of his daze. It takes him a few seconds to completely register the unwanted gesture, prompting him to glare at her.

"_Che_?" He asks, ensconcing himself into his seat.

"Lovi! Quick! Look, it's Allistor!" She cries out, very much conspicuously pointing at the aforementioned Scotsman a few feet away from them.

Like a radar, Elizabeta's ears perk up and she quickly turns to face the Italian and the Belgian seated in front of her. She _instantly _picks up on Lovino's flushed, _oh-so _very flushed face, and follows his line of sight (and Bella's pointed finger).

Allistor Kirkland; senior; older brother of Arthur Kirkland; play director. Her eyes skimmed over the Scot's body before flickering over to Lovino's, running her own little compatibility test on them—

Oh, what the hell—

"I ship it." She blurts out, sitting up a bit straighter. Her heart flutters at the thought of all the scenarios they could be in together. She starts to get a bit starry-eyed at the mere thought of them together, bodies pressed flush against each other, _writhing_… _ehehehehehehe~_

Ahem. Right—

They would make _such a cute couple_. Really! No kidding!

The charming, charismatic play director finding true love in the form of an anti-social, enigmatic, yet witty playwright-in-the-making.

Said playwright, too, finds his muse in the play director, and is captured in the entrapments of love for the first time.

Together, they become _one_, making art in the highest form using their bodies as a canvas— a canvas of _love_.

Oh~. _Oh, _**_yes_**_~._

This is **_pure gold_**.

A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. They belong together, and she's going to make sure that they sure as _hell _are going to get together.

Because she is a shipper and this newfound ship will not sink.

Nothing gets in the way of her ships.

**N-O-T-H-I-N-G.**

Let the matchmaking begin~!

* * *

Lovino couldn't tear his eyes off of Allistor the entire night. Halfway through the orientation, Lovino found himself wishing Allistor would turn around _just a bit _so their eyes could meet.

But at the same time, he didn't, because he wouldn't know what to do then.

Nobody really pays any mind when Elizabeta excuses herself, camcorder in hand. Her olive green eyes scan the room for her intended target. Allistor's in the very back of the room, lingering around with the other council members of the PAS since Allistor was voted to be the vice president of the PAS for this school year.

"Hey!" Eliza pipes up, catching their attention.

The president, Victoria Greene, glances up at her, setting her iPhone down on the table she's sitting at. "Hi! What can we do for you?"

"Um, so, you're all seniors, right?" Liz asks, thoughtfully adding a "Just curious."

Victoria nods, "Yeah, majority of us are. Save for the first to third year-level representatives, of course."

"Oh…" she nods in faux understanding of something she was already aware of. "I get it now. So the seniors will be the ones choosing the freshmen, right?"

Again, the president nods, "Right again. Are you a freshman?"

"Yeah," Liz says, stretching her hand out for Victoria to shake. "Elizabeta Héderváry. Media production."

"Nice!" A girl with candy-coloured hair speaks up, grinning at her. They high-five before shaking hands as well. "I'm taking media production too! Magdalene Chandnani. Treasurer."

Finally, the _cr__è__me de la cr__è__me _speaks up. He pushes himself off of the table he was leaning against, curtly shaking her hand. "'Ello, me name's Allistor Kirkland. Ah take play directin' an' Ah'm vice president of th' PAS."

"Oh! I've heard a _lot _about you!" Eliza says, internally hoping this manipulation thing would work. "People say you're really talented!"

He grins sheepishly, rubbing the nape of his neck. "Well, uh, Ah'm not sure about tha'."

"Oh, you're too modest! But either way, I hope that my friends and I get to help you out this year!"

"Cor! Really?" He quirks an eyebrow up. He beams at her. "Well, Ah'd be honoured!"

Magdalene cracks up laughing.

Elizabeta laughs too, but the voice in the back of her mind is practically screaming '_holy shit they are gonna be so fucking perfect for each other_'. "Yeah! My friends are over there, in the back—" she points at them individually. "So there's Michelle, that's Feliks— what the hell is Toris doing here?— _anyway_, there's Bella, and beside her is _Lovino Vargas_. He's an Italian~."

"Ooh~" goes Magda, giving Allistor suggestive looks. He elbows her side, his face dusted with a subtle red.

"Shush, Mags." He turns to Elizabeta, nodding. "Righ'— we'd love ta 'ave yeh on board!"

He reaches behind him and hands her a clipboard. "Jus' sign up righ' 'ere."

She smirks, taking it from him. "Sure thing!"

* * *

"Alright! Before we all let you go home tonight, we'll be announcing the names of those helping the seniors who drafted them in." Says Victoria in front of everyone on the stage. Her platinum blond hair looks silver in the spotlight. Behind her are the graduating batches separated in their respective groups.

There were a total of ten groups in the graduating batch. Each group had seniors from each and every course underneath Performing Arts— they were to orchestrate several plays on their own.

They've done so before, but that was under the watchful eye of their department's dean, Professor Cassandra Gaul. This time, they had full reign, but the dean would still be there to give them advice when need be, nonetheless.

Lovino sighs, finally looking up from his phone. Liz had him sign up to someone's group with the rest of the others; he could only hope that the seniors in that group weren't fucking annoying.

To his surprise, the moment his eyes flicker up, it immediately meets forest green ones. Allistor's.

His heart palpitates a bit.

Gulping, he quickly looks from side-to-side to see if the redhead is looking at anyone else— he isn't. Once he glances back, Allistor smiles at him, mouthing, 'hi'.

Lovino's jaw goes slack for one second, two seconds, before he finally manages to collect himself and return the greeting with a curt nod.

The Scotman directs his eyes to the blond speaking, nodding his head in her direction.

The other picks up what he's trying to say rather quickly.

_Listen._

It takes him several seconds to fully get his attention on the girl speaking on-stage.

"…with Ty Lee as stage director and Allistor Kirkland as theatre director. The following students are: Elizabeta Héderváry, first year, media production. Bella Janssens, first year, acting. Lovino Vargas, first year, creative writing. Michelle Moreau, first year, acting. Feliks Łukasiewicz, first year, acting. Cheyenne Mueller, first year, creative writing…"

Lovino's heart starts to rapidly beat against his chest.

This _cannot _be real.

H-He— _Somehow_, he was in the same group as _Allistor Kirkland_. Like, how the actual fuck did that happen?

T-Then this indescribable feeling of happiness and anxiousness just _swelled_ inside of him; it was like his heart would burst right out of his chest any second.

If anything, he felt like the luckiest fucker in the world.

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, his face flushing a light shade of red. Oh, God.

* * *

After they were all dismissed, the others were quick to leave— Lovino's squad was no exception.

But Lovino, living five minutes away from campus, decided to take his sweet time _just _to linger in the same room as Allistor for a little bit longer.

God, he is so pathetic.

He'd even resorted to helping out a bit with cleaning— and he _hated _cleaning messes that weren't even his.

He still felt Allistor's eyes occasionally linger on him; he felt his face flush fifty shades of red under the Scot's passing gaze.

When the redhead wasn't looking, however, Lovino would turn to look at Allistor instead.

Thing is, it was like they were both aware of it, but neither one had openly pointed it out or made it obvious. So they continued playing this little game, just between the both of them, cleaning up the room as the force of attraction drew them closer and closer together.

They were beside each other now, silently coordinating with each other by tidying up the rubbish others had left after eating. Barely a minute had passed— they were both done now.

Lovino ties the trash bag up as a way to mask his reddening face as Allistor dusts his hands on the fabric of his jeans.

"Right! So…" he starts, taking the trash bag from Lovino's hands.

Their hands brush together. Lovino's mind momentarily goes blank, breath hitching at the contact.

But they don't instantly draw their hands away. It lingers for several more seconds before Allistor eventually pulls away. The Italian's eyes are drawn to his hands.

"Um… Ah guess we're done 'ere. Fanks so much for helping, Lovino," says the Scotsman.

Lovino glances up at Allistor, heart skipping another beat as their eyes met.

He'd never been so close, _oh_-so close to the redhead before. He got a good look at Allistor's eyes, a spectrum of various shades of green reflected in them.

_Dio_, he's just so fucking _perfect_.

He realises its been several seconds before he finally stammers out, frowning at his derpiness, "Y-Yeah, whatever, bastard." He finally looks away. "I'm l-leaving now, dammit. Not that _you__'__d _c-care or anything… I-I'm just saying!"

He makes his way over to the backpack he left on his seat, internally berating himself for even fucking _speaking_. God.

"Lovi, wait!" Allistor exclaims, striding to the back of the room.

Lovino's mind just blanks out at the nickname. Once again. What the actual fuck.

"Wait for me too, yeah? Ah'll go wif yeh!"

The Italian forces himself to shake the thoughts— or lack, thereof— out of his head before making his way to the door. "Better h-hurry up then, b-bastard…"

After a bit more bustling around, Allistor jogs out of the room with Lovino, his body close enough to the Italian's to feel the warmth radiating from his body.

The walk was quiet for several moments before Allistor spoke up. "Ah'm really glad yeh'll be 'elping me out this year, Lov."

"'_Lov_'?" Lovino can't help but echo, his cheeks flushing a bright red. _Grazie a Dio _it was dark out. He absentmindedly rubs his cheeks.

Allistor beams at him sheepishly. "Um. Yeah. Do yeh mind? It's a nickname!"

"W-Whatever," the Italian sputters out. "I don't care."

Just as they approach the Starbucks all of this started in, the redhead stops dead in his tracks, glancing at him. "Wanna grab some coffee before we head 'ome? Ah could use another fix."

Through some kind of unspoken agreement, they automatically went in.

* * *

This feeling he got around Allistor, it was hard to explain. Love, to him, was a concept so foreign and abstract, he wasn't sure he could ever put it into words.

Is it love?

He isn't so sure of that, still.

**(Or, perhaps, he didn't _want _to be so sure about something he's never even felt before. How 'sure' would his 'sure' be?)**

Even though his heart is rapidly beating against his chest.

Even though his hands are sweating and he found it a bit more difficult to breathe when Allistor was around.

Even though he wants nothing more than to run his hands through those fiery scarlet locks and pull him in close, oh-so close for a passionate kiss.

Still, still.

When he first met the Scotsman, he was so overwhelmed by his thoughts; dangerous thoughts. But as the night went on, and the more time he spent with Allistor in the Starbucks a minute or two away from campus, Lovino couldn't help but yearn to be close to him as much as he could get.

At one point, Allistor got up to get another venti serving of black coffee. Lovino felt a little more lonelier than he's usually been for the past several years.

Then Allistor came back, a-and…

…Lovino felt whole again.

_What_? He found himself thinking, brows scrunching together in confusion.

_What? _He asked himself again. _What?_

Since _when _was he ever missing a part of himself in the first place?

The fuck?

S-Slowly, he glanced up and a smile couldn't help but tug at the corners of his lips as Allistor added several packets' worth of white and brown sugar into his coffee.

"You _definitely _won't be getting any sleep with that," Lovino jests, and the redhead laughs. He has a really nice laugh.

Lovino wouldn't mind hearing it everyday.

**(Especially if he's going to be the one to make him laugh in the first place.)**

A silence falls between them.

Lovino's used to the silence, but this one is vastly different compared to others.

The silence isn't terse, or awkward, or filled with dread or hate.

The silence, he muses, is a comfortable one, filled with contentment just by being in the other's presence and vice-versa.

Is it love?

He still isn't sure, but he isn't as uncertain either.

* * *

Allistor walks him home that night. Lovino initially refuses, but Allistor says that it was no problem, and that he was going to have to pass Lovino's apartment building anyway.

"Yeh're not a burden," says Allistor. The night air is cold, nipping at their skin. He has his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans. "An' Ah don't mind walkin' yeh 'ome."

The walk ends as soon as it's begun. Not just in a metaphorical sense, but in a literal one, too.

Seriously, you can see the building down the street from Starbucks.

Lovino is filled with dread at the unwanted prospect of saying goodbye.

But, to his complete and utter surprise, Allistor lingers. And, still, they talk.

They talk about everything, anything, and nothing at all. About Allistor's play. About Lovino's writing. About Allistor's three brothers— Arthur, Colin and Liam. About Lovino's twin brother, Feliciano. About coffee— "Black coffee sucks, dammit! How the hell can you digest that shit with a cupful of sugar? Just order a cappuccino and get over it!" "Oh, c'mon. I' isn't _tha__' _bad, is it? Mefinks it's an 'acquired taste'."— and about the godsend that is Starbucks.

As he looks at the redhead smoking a Marlboro light, Lovino feels as if he could talk to Allistor, open up to him entirely.

But the thoughts— _dangerous _thoughts— are always there, lingering in the back of his mind. Lurking, hiding.

Waiting to pounce.

He _could _open up to Allistor entirely, but he won't.

He can't— it's just too much of a risk **(but what was the risk?)**. There are too many things he wouldn't understand **(like what?)**.

But maybe… someday. One day. He can; he will. And Allistor will stay.

Then it gets too late. Feliciano is calling him now, saying it's ten PM and ve~ _fratello_, are you at another party again? Lovino grumbles that he's just outside the building.

"I'll be up in a minute, Feli. Calm your tits!" He says with an indignant huff. Then he hangs up.

His face flushes red. Allistor is smiling at him in amusement. "God, Lov, yeh are too cute. Ah swear ta God."

Lovino begins to sputter out a string of incoherent babbling. They run along the ines of "F-Fuck you! I— I am _not cute_, got that?"

And Allistor just laughs. "Ah'm sorreh, Lov; Ah jus' couldn't 'elp i'."

All grows quiet once again. Unbeknownst to themselves, there are huge, dorky grins on their faces. Allistor is the first one to become aware of his rather excessive smiling and his cheeks are dusted with a subtle red.

"U-Um…" he stutters, rubbing the nape of his neck. He laughs, offering Lovino a charming smile. "Right. This was nice, Lov. Really nice. An' Ah fink tha' we should… do this more often, yeah?"

Lovino glances down at his feet. His cheeks are freakishly warm.

"Whatever," he instinctively says. Then he winces. "B-But… I wouldn't m-mind… n-not that I _want _to or anything!"

"Mm, Ah'll see you around then, Lov."

Finally, the Italian looks up. Their eyes meet and his heart soars in exaltation.

"Yeah," he whispers, suddenly out of breath.

"Have a good nigh', Lovino."

Then Allistor walks away.

For the first time in ages, Lovino a-actually feels… _happy_. Like, _genuinely _happy.

But the moment Allistor's gone, he feels somewhat _incomplete_.

Maybe, perhaps, he's always been incomplete. But it's only now that he's found someone to make him feel whole again.

He watches the redhead's silhouette fade into the distance. It's only then when he decides to go up. Better hurry before Feli blows a gasket, right?

By the time he's reached his apartment, his face hurts from all the smiling. He's growing more and more sure with each passing second.

* * *

**Translations:**

_amore _\- love (It.)  
_si _\- yes (It./Esp.)  
_buenos dias _\- good morning (Esp.)  
_lo siento _\- I'm sorry (Esp.)  
_Dios _\- God (Esp.)  
_che _\- what (It.)  
_Dio _\- God (It.)  
_grazie a Dio _\- thank God (It.)  
_fratello _\- brother (It.)

**Aaaaaand there's the shift. Quick, huh?**

**Told you he'd drop them like hot potatoes. Even if that hot potato _is _Feliciano— ah, well, Feli has his own 'hot potato' anyway~ ;D /wink-wonk**

**Sorry for the late update! This romance part stumped me the most. I didn't know how to go about it, so I decided to sift through old text messages, love quotes on Tumblr, and old diaries to get that feeling of falling into _l__'__amour _correctly.**

**Please. Do _not _ever read old text messages unless you want to feel like complete and utter shit and regret everything you have ever said.**

**And thank you for all of the reviews and feedback~! Trust me; I'm looking forward to the more depressing chapters and to pseudo-pervert!Toni, too~.**

**Review, _por favor_~! I AM A HAPPY DONUT**

**~jellydonut16~**

**P.S. haha inter-fic ship war**

**P.P.S. How do you find the Scotmano so far? Is it up to par? Were you able to relate to them somehow~? :D**


	14. fourteen

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_**Kicking the Bucket List**_

**fourteen**

"_**I have passed by many eyes,  
**__**but I only got lost in yours.**_**"  
**— _**Feb 22, 2015**_

The next morning, when the sun had begun to dawn, it was as if Lovino's spirits rose with it. He woke up on time, feeling well-rested; for once, he wasn't in an irascible mood. Somehow, it felt as if everything fell into place.

…I-It was nice, actually.

**(But a small part of him was afraid to grow accustomed to it.)**

After staring at the ceiling in blissful languor for several minutes, Lovino finally got up to get ready for class. He exited his bedroom after, finding Feliciano bustling about the kitchen, singing to Taylor Swift's _Blank Space_. The older Italian couldn't help but snort in amusement.

"Ve~ _Buon giorno_, _fratello_!" Feli says, kissing his brother's cheek. He was up and early today~!

"_Buon giorno_," Lovino mutters in response, sitting on one of the barstools by the island counter. Last night was still on replay in his head. It took him quite a bit of effort to refrain from smiling like an idiot. Fucking pathetic, but he can't really find it in himself to give a shit.

"I'm making eggs Benedict~" says Feli, striding over to the oven to check on the muffins toasting in the oven. "Can you help me make the hollandaise?"

"Yeah, sure," the older of the two replies, getting up with a laboured groan. He strides over to one of the cupboards to get a bowl so he can make the sauce.

"Ooh~ You're in a good mood today~! Anything good happen?"

The bowl in Lovino's flimsy grasp clatters down to the counter— thankfully, it didn't break. Hands still trembling, his face flushes fifty shades of crimson as he inadvertently freezes up in absolute mortification. Oh, God. You fucking _klutz_.

"Shit," he hisses under his breath, berating himself for getting so affected by something as trivial as an observation from Feliciano, before turning the volume up a notch. He should've known Feliciano would have noticed, anyway. When it came to his younger twin, he was practically an open book. And no, his transparency wasn't intentional. "I-I don't know what the hell you're talking about, so..! S-So shut up, dammit!"

Feli smiles at him, faux naïf. "If you say so, Lovi… But you're my _fratello_; I know well enough when you're in a good mood~!" He returns to tending the smoked ham sizzling on the stove. "Whatever it is, if _you're _happy, then _I'm _happy, _fratello_!"

"You're such a sap." Lovino clumsily retrieves the ingredients he needs from the fridge. "And, whatever! Just shut up, dammit— you're annoying me already!"

"Ve~ But of course!" Feliciano airily laughs, flipping the ham cooking on the skillet with practised ease.

"Don't you fucking sass me," the older of the two grumbles in response. Thankfully, that was the end of that.

The Vargas brother worked deftly and precisely; he was no stranger to cooking and preparing dishes from different cuisines, but Italian food _definitely _ruled over them all. His seafood risotto is fucking _orgasmic_. No kidding. And so is he and Feliciano's tortellini, but they only ever make pasta from scratch during the holidays or special events; Christmas, mostly. Or whenever _Nonno _had the time to come home from whatever the hell he did for a living.

Breakfast, for most part, was quiet.

Maybe, perhaps, it was because Feliciano was silently waiting for Lovino to 'fess up or something. He eyed his older brother expectantly the entire time, efforts (and beseeching stares) indefatigable.

It was awkward— not to mention _creepy_— as fuck.

Lovino didn't know why Feliciano bothered_— _he rarely ever gave in to the younger twin's whims and p-_pleading _stares… e-especially the ones that made him look like a k-kicked puppy or something…

…Okay, so maybe he _did_.

So?

Fuck you.

B-But there is _no way _in heaven or in hell that he would ever tell Feliciano about _him_. He couldn't— he just couldn't. He would _never _hear the end of it.

Plus, it wasn't like Allistor would ever feel the same way, right?

* * *

"Ugh, not this again." Lovino grumbles, scowling at the Spaniard waiting outside their apartment building— _once again_.

_Dio_, he really should be used to this by now— and in a way, he is. But out of self-preservation of sanity, he _refuses _to outright admit that this— the stupid Spaniard stalking his _fratellino_— has become a part of his daily life.

That, in itself, was like admitting defeat. Like, that's it. The douchebag is like a tumour. A mass of cells with no function. And you just _let him stay there_, _**allowing**_ him to become a malignant tumour.

Now you have cancer.

Antonio's expression could've lit up the entire metropolitan area the moment he saw the Vargas twins. Before he could even stop himself, or show a single self-respecting iota of self-restraint, he immediately rushes over to Lovino, _genuinely _excited to see him.

"Lovi! Uh. I mean, Lovino. Hi. Hi~!" He babbles, his heart rapidly beating against his chest. He reminded Lovino of a happy puppy.

The scowl on Lovino's face deepens, a crease forming between his brows. "What do you want from me? Leave me alone, dammit!"

_Virginity Guardian Armour _activated, he automatically reaches behind him to shield Feliciano away from that damned Spaniard's touchy-feely mitts.

Admittedly, his _Virginity Guardian Armour _hasn't been proactive in quite a bit, but it's about time that shit's changed. For _good_.

"Well, I—"

Lovino gives him a sarcastic smile, "That was a rhetorical question. Fuck off."

"Lovi!" Feliciano whines, latching onto his brother's arm and trying to manoeuvre him _away_, far, _far away _from Antonio, lest fists start flying— _again_.

Feeling dejected, Antonio tries to find the right words to reason with him. All he wanted was to apologise to Lovino _and _be forgiven! That— That's all! Right? "B-But…"

Lovino swiftly turns on his heel and starts walking to campus. He's dragging Feliciano along with him.

And within a few short minutes, all of them would part.

Antonio didn't know why, but he was beginning to dislike how short the walk to campus from the Vargas' apartment was. It wasn't long enough to try and talk to Lovino.

N-Not that Lovino would even talk to him, anyway.

But still.

There was something about the Italian Toni couldn't exactly pinpoint. Like there was something else hidden underneath all those anger issues and truculence.

What Antonio saw of Lovino's writing that day attested to that, and he wanted to know more. _Craved_, even.

He just wished he had more opportunities in the day to try and get to know the older Vargas brother.

* * *

As Lovino stomps off to his first class, re-pissed about having to spend his mornings around someone he hated, Feliciano hung back and turned to Antonio.

The Spaniard looks troubled. _Really _troubled.

"Ve~" Feli starts, "I know you mean well and all, but I think it would be best if you gave Lovi some space first~. Then you can try again!"

Antonio's eyes meet Feliciano's, a flustered smile on his face. "Ah, right~" A small chuckle escapes his lips. "Has he always been like this?"

"Who? Lovi?" Asks Feliciano. Toni nods in response. "Hmm~ Like what, Toni?"

The brunette shrugs his shoulders before making a vague hand gesture in the general direction of where the grumpy twin stormed off. "Angry."

The younger twin giggles before his expression grows sombre. "As long as I could remember. But Lovi's actually a nice person! He— He just… doesn't like to show it."

Toni raises an eyebrow at this. "Why?"

"I ask him about it sometimes, but he never gives me a straight answer. Sometimes, I don't think he'll ever tell me." He glances down at his feet, expression unreadable and almost wistful in a way. "But maybe one day, Lovi will open up to me."

* * *

"You smooth bastard." Magdalene says for the umpteenth time, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Shush, Mags. Stop making such a big deal out of this! 'Ow many times do Ah have ta tell yeh? It wasn't a date—"

"Ah, ah, ah!" She quickly interjects, waggling her finger at him. "I'll bet you wish it were. And it _was_! Bloody hell, Allistor, denial much?"

"It was _not _denial, we were jus' hanging out! Two blokes going out for a cup of coffee."

"'Hanging out'? You call that hanging out? For God's sake, Allistor, you _fancy _him and you know it!"

"Ah do _not _fancy 'im." He exclaims in exasperation.

"Really, Allistor. You're being as stubborn as your brothers. It must run in the family."

"Why are yeh so _obsessed _wif me love life? Wha's it to yeh if Ah fancy 'im or not?"

But she can see his resolve crumbling, and that's all that matters. She raises an eyebrow at him.

Several seconds pass and he winces sheepishly. "Okay. So _maybe _Ah do. Jus' a little bit. Ah mean, look a' 'im. He's— He is absolutely _adorable_. God." He places his hands on his hips and slowly shakes his head. "Ah… Ah jus' don't know anymore, Mags. Fing is, Ah'm… usually straight?"

"So? Follow your heart, man!"

The redhead chuckles incredulously, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Oh, God. Yeh don't even know _half _of wha' Ah'm feeling right now. After _all this time_ Ah thought Ah were straight, turns out Ah'm actually…" He clears his throat. "A homosexual. It's a very weird feeling, an' now Ah feel all ambivalent."

"Ooh, 'ambivalent'. Fancy." She crosses her arms over her chest. "It shouldn't even matter. Arthur's gay too, isn't he?"

"Yes, but… please don't say tha'."

"Say what?"

"…Th' word 'gay'. It just seems… derogatory ta me, is all. Ah don't like th' ring of i'."

"'Faggot' is derogatory. 'Twinkie' is derogatory. 'Poof' is derogatory. 'Gay' is an accepted term for a male homosexual."

"Ah know tha', but— but _still_. Ah'm _new _to— to all this…"

She grins at him, a mischievous gleam in her eye. "Maybe you can ask Lovino show you the ropes—"

"For God's sake, Magdalene."

* * *

They were studying poetry in Lovino's Creative Writing class, the different styles and forms of poetry and prose, along with notable poets to go with it. Once again, Lovino found himself lost in his thoughts as they replayed last night over and over again, trying to take in every single fleeting moment he spent with _him_. He wished he had a picture of the Scotsman or something. But no photo on earth could ever be good enough as seeing him in person. Words began to swirl, form in his head. He needed to capture his words, lest they get lost in his thoughts, never to return.

He didn't know why his words had a tendency to go astray if he didn't write it down right then and there. It was one of his idiosyncrasies, really. When he thought about it, remembered that one _annoying _eccentricity about himself, he hated it. But when he didn't, he found that he didn't particularly poised over paper, his hand began to write.

**I want to map out  
****constellations  
****on your skin,**

**run my hands  
****through tresses  
****like flames  
****licking  
****at my bones,**

**make my home  
****in eyes evergreen,**

**and yet I  
****accustom myself to  
****affections unseen**

**and that makes  
****me scared  
****because I ****want**** you  
****and to want  
****is a dangerous thing**

**to crave for things,  
****places, and people  
****one can never have**

He drew his hand back and thought about it for a second, poring over what he'd written. Then he frowned upon realising that whatever he felt about Allistor? Yeah, it was getting _bad_. Real bad. Then again, who was he to judge, being callow to the ever-mysterious ways of romantic love? Having vetoed the very notion of it all his life?

Was he a hypocrite because of it? Or was he enlightened?

Like, this is the same thing others live for, what poets died for.

The phrase 'dead men tell no lies' comes to thought.

Surely, to love is a dangerous thing.

As he decided to turn his attention back to the lecture being given, he thought about one of his favourite poets, Francesco Petrarca. He was an Italian, of course. His _Il Canzoniere _was the crowning glory of all his works, yet Lovino found himself somewhat _obsessed _with Petrarch's _Love's Inconsistency_.

It related to him, somehow. Actually, _not _'somehow', but it related to him a _lot_. And right now, one particular line spoke to him.

'**I love another, and yet I hate myself.'**

It just really hits home, doesn't it?

A-And what's _amazing _about it is that _this guy_, Petrarch? Yeah, he lived in the fucking 1300's, which is just— just _astonishing_. His words were true then, and to Lovino, they're true now.

Literature _literally _**transcends time**. Like, go to the library. Look at all those classics. They're fucking _timeless_, no matter _how _immemorial they are. _Read _those classics. These writers are the ones who paved the way, they are the ones who raised the bar as high as it is. These works, when you read them, it's like travelling back in time, another era, even another _world_; be it living through the French Revolution in Victor Hugo's _Les Miserables _or in _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland _by Lewis Carroll.

And the most _mindblowing _thing about it?

When you flip through those pages, you're reading the same book many great _revolutionary_ people have. The words you see are the ones they've read as well. And, somehow, it's like you're a part of it. You're a part of something great.

But he wasn't quite good enough yet. Not now, probably not today… but maybe someday.

Given that he lived long enough to create a literary masterpiece, that is.

* * *

**Lovino**

A languid scrawl on a blank page.

**Vargas**

The name glided from the tip of his pen so smoothly, so fluidly, to write it over and over again felt more and more natural.

**Lovino Vargas**

**Lovino Vargas**

**Lovino Vargas**

Stop.

Green eyes scanned the page, the Italian's name gradually filling up the page.

To write his name seemed so right. Like it was _made _to be written, especially in two liquid swoops.

**Lovino Vargas**

**Lovino  
****Lovino  
****Lovino**

Over and over and over again.

Forwards, downwards, diagonally— wherever it could fit, be it the nooks and crannies of the corners of the page, or scrawled along the sides.

Abruptly, the writing had stopped. Ceased.

The monomania subsides temporarily, in the like manner the moon pulls the currents towards itself, water receding from the shore. High tides come nigh, he will succumb to the ephemeral intricacies of passion once again, encumbering all sense of reason within his being.

Class has ended.

The notebook is closed.

Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, Antonio exits the room and looks forward to lunch.

* * *

"_Gott_," Gilbert says, frowning as he picks at his snack. "Why the hell did I even buy Koala March?"

He takes a chocolate-filled biscuit out, staring at the koala on it. It stared right back at him, light brown eyes a-almost… _pleading_.

The Frenchman and the Spaniard stare at their friend in a mix of curiosity and suspense.

Finally, the self-proclaimed Prussian's resolve crumbles. "I can't do it! Look at him! He's so _cute_!"

Francis sighs. "It is a confectionery snack, _mon ami_."

"_Ja_, but it has a face! I can't eat this! I can't eat him!" Gilbert sets the box down and slips the fortunate koala back in. "Ah, _Scheiße_. The struggle is real. It sucks being such an awesome and nice person sometimes."

Antonio stares intently at the green hexagonal box, as if telepathically willing it to give him answers. "…How do you even know it was a boy?"

Gilbert shrugs. "I don't."

The scandalised look on Antonio's face prompts the other two to burst out laughing.

Out from the corner of his eye, a certain Italian's face catches his attention. It was like Lovino was some sort of beacon. Like no matter how many people there were in the room, it was like Antonio only saw him. Like Lovino stood apart from the others somehow.

The tides were getting higher and higher with each second he saw him.

Who knows when the waters will come flooding in?

* * *

It was nice out today, so Lovino and the squad all decided to go to the park and sit underneath the shade of the trees. Lovino sat against a tree, with Bella laying her head down on his lap. He played with her hair, trying to braid wild daisies he'd found nearby into it. That didn't really work out too well for him because: a. her hair was short, b. she was lying down and c. he didn't know jack shit about braiding hair. Michelle and Elizabeta were also derping on the grass, out in the sun, just bathing in the light. Feliks, however…

"What're you _doing_?" Lovino asks, raising an eyebrow at the naked-faced Pole preparing assorted makeup cosmetics before him, precariously perched atop the white picnic table he sat at.

Green eyes flicker up to meet his momentarily before they glance back down. "I'm making a quick makeup tutorial. My followers have been, like, asking me for a video on how I do my eyebrows."

The Italian furrows his brows together. "Wait, what? Followers?"

Feliks looks genuinely offended, putting a hand to his chest in offence. "You mean… you don't know?"

"I don't know _what_?" Lovino retorts, eyes narrowing a fraction.

"Feliks runs a pro-LGBT and transsexual blog." Michelle speaks up, amusement in her tone. "He's Tumblr-famous."

"That's right, honey. I, like, post daily updates, makeup tutorials, Vines, and my content is 100% pro-LGBT rights. It's like a side job I like to do, only better~!"

"You mean you get paid for it?" Lovino asks, quirking an eyebrow up.

"No, but being Tumblr-famous is reward enough, hon. You have _no idea _how many hate messages I used to get. I still get them even now, but I know better how to answer them with _finesse_. Like, I am a fucking queen. You think Beyoncé lets herself get affected by all these haters— _hell no_! I'm the same."

"Started from the bottom, now we're here," quotes Liz, a grin on her face. "You use all that for your eyebrows?"

"Um, duh. It's why my brows are always perf."

Michelle got up from the ground and sat beside Feliks. "So let me get this straight. You use a pencil to contour your brows, then you use an eyebrow cake to fill it in, and you top it all off with two shades of eyebrow mascara."

The blond nods. "Yes, basically~."

She squints. "God, what time do you wake up?"

"Early enough to look fabulous at eight AM." He positions his Macbook Pro in front of him, trying to get the best angle. "Ugh, I'm against the light." He switches to the other side and tries again.

Lovino focusses his attention back to Bella, trying to get all of the petals out of her hair. She shifts a bit, content. "Keep doing that. It feels nice. So later tonight, I'm going on a date with this guy I met at the party last Friday," she says to no one in particular, staring straight ahead.

Michelle turns to her, scooting towards the end of the bench. "Hmm. Party guy? I don't know, Bel…"

A feline smile creeps onto the Belgian's lips. "But he's, like, really cute! He goes to Holy Trinity."

Lovino snorts. Holy Trinity was the Catholic school in the city that only recently opened a small college department. Hardly anyone ever went there. For Bella's sake, he could only hope the kid wasn't answering a vocation.

"Ooh, church boy gone bad~" the Seychellois drawls in a teasing tone.

Bella skims through her Facebook on her phone for a few moments before handing it to Michelle. "Look, look— See? Isn't he cute?"

The brunette takes the phone, examining the photo before slowly nodding in approval. "Mm, yeah, he is kinda hot."

"I _know_, right? Apparently, he's from Bulgaria."

Lovino speaks up. "Bulgaria is a country?"

"It is!" She giggles in response.

The Italian knits his brows together. "Weird. I thought it was like… Albany or Saxon or something. I dunno. Whatever."

"And he _really likes yoghurt_, so we're gonna grab some froyo together after dinner."

Michelle hands the phone over to the Hungarian busily editing videos on her laptop. "Hey, Liz! Look at Bella's new boytoy."

Elizabeta takes the phone from Michelle's grasp, her olive green eyes widening. "_Whoa_. Dude, he totally looks like Eren Jaeger from Attack on Titan! He should _totally _cosplay Eren!"

"What's that?" Asks Bella, only for Elizabeta to shrug her off, handing the Belgian her phone back.

"It's this anime that I watch. Ugh, I ship Riren and Ereri so _hard_."

Bella nods, totally not interested (#tbh) "Okay then… Anyways, I hope he and I will click. I want us to be like in those Nicholas Sparks books I read. They're no fairytales, but it's pretty darn close, and I want that."

"You mean you want emotional turmoil and drama," deadpans Liz.

"No, Liz, like true love. I just want to fall in love. Completely, entirely in love." Bella giggles. "I'm sorry, I just— I'm just a _huge _romantic. I can't help but feel like there _must _be someone out there for me. My own Prince Charming." Then she glances up at Lovino, who's nearly done with combing the petals out of her golden locks. "Lovi?"

Hazel eyes meet hers. "What?"

"Do you believe in true love? Like somewhere out there, there's a person whose hand you're meant to hold. And despite all the things life throws at you, fate somehow finds a way to bring you two together. I believe in it and I think it's beautiful."

There's a twinkle in her icy green eyes that are practically screaming 'Allistor'. Lovino can't help but grow rigid at the unexpected question. "Um. I don't know."

"Hmm~ Do you want to?"

"…I don't know."

With that, she nods. Best to let Lovi deal with his emotions at his own pace. Wouldn't want to overwhelm him now, would we?

All is silent between them for a few moments before she speaks up. "You should make a Tumblr."

The corner of his lip twitches upwards at the randomness of the statement. "Why?"

"Why not?" She retorts in response.

"Because I don't need one?"

"Honey, _no one _ever needs a Tumblr until they get one." Feliks pipes up, eyebrows meticulously done and arched to perfection.

"I know that feel," Liz says, high-fiving Feliks.

"So why should I get one?" Lovino asks the blond on his lap.

She reaches up and pokes his cheek. He swats her hand away in annoyance.

"Because it'd be fun, silly~!" She skims through her phone before handing it to Lovino. "Here~. Make one!"

He groans in protest.

She pouts at him. "Please?"

"No!" Lovino growls out, trying to push her face away. God, that _pout _is potent. Nope. No. _Hell _no.

She turns to face him, wrapping draping an arm around his waist. "Please?" She pushes his hands away from her face. He opts to cover his face this time.

"Lovi!" She whines, prying his hands off. "Look at me so I can pout at you!"

Something akin a whimper escapes his lips. She gets up off his lap and grapples around with him. "C'mon! Just _make one_!"

"Why!?"

"Because!"

"No! Leave me alone!"

After several minutes of more bantering, it finally dawns on Lovino that Bella will _not _get off his back until she gets what she wants. His attempts futile, his waste of energy had eventually forced him into surrender.

"Fine, fine! I'll make your stupid blog already. Jesus Christ. Just _chill the fuck out_, dammit!"

Bella smirks at him in triumph. "Ooh, yay~!"

"One day," he starts, pulling his phone out with one hand and pointing at her with another. "That look won't work on me anymore. And when that day comes, _tough shit_, Bella. I won't be under your control any longer. Asshole."

The blond smacks him upside the head before getting on her toes to glance over his shoulder.

"You spelled it wrong." She says. He spelt it t-u-m-b-l-e-r. "Remove the 'e'."

He mutters a string of Italian curses under his breath, erasing the 'e'. He stares blankly at the screen. Several seconds pass and it's fully loaded.

Michelle gets up and glances over his other shoulder. "Ooh! Now make a URL."

Lovino types in a possible URL name, disgruntled to find that 'pizza' was taken.

"Oh. About that," Bella comments, her expression sheepish. "The best URLs are always taken. But choose something that best describes you, Lovi!"

He types in 'asshole', but that's taken too. After typing in numerous insulting names, he finally finds a URL that wasn't taken.

"Got one." He says.

"'Piss off'? Really?" The Belgian says incredulously.

He snorts, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Yeah. 'Fuck off' was taken. And if this doesn't best describe me or what I'm feeling right now, I don't know what will."

Bella and Feliks start showing him the basics of the blogging site, how to reblog and make posts. It's like rocket science to Lovino, who's boggled by all the— the _things _on the thing. Under the guidance of the Belgian and the Pole, the not-so interwebz savvy Italian reblogs a few posts. Finally, he makes his very own post.

**Bella made me do this**, he wrote as a title. And in the content box below that, he added, **oh god why**

"That's right, Lovino," Liz says, grinning at him mischievously. "Come over to the dark side. Join us. We have cookies and fandoms."

But he wasn't paying attention to her. He was busy going through the #tomato tag on Tumblr. But there was this tiny little voice in the back of his mind going, _What have I done?_

What was that about, right?

* * *

"Hey, Gil?" Antonio speaks up, picking at the neatly sliced tomatoes he packed for lunch along with some rice and beef salpicao.

"Yeah?" Gilbert asks in response, looking up from his current read: _It's Kind of a Funny Story_. Immediately, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. Antonio looked stressed. He _never _looked stressed, unless something serious came up— "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

"Um," Toni starts, forcing down a lump that had formed in the back of his throat. His thoughts were racing around in his mind too fast for him to even comprehend. All he knew is that he wanted to know _why_. "Why do you hate Lovino so much?"

He winces at his tone. It sounded clipped and angry. He wasn't angry, was he? Why should he be? Gilbert didn't to anything wrong.

Cerise eyes widen in response at the sheer _defensiveness _in Antonio's voice. _Gott_, it was worse than he thought— than he and _Franny _thought.

He tries to find the right words to say. An incredulous chuckle escapes his lips as he sets the book down, slowly shaking his head in disbelief. "Look, Tone, I— I don't _hate _him, okay? I just don't like him very much. We had a some beef together back in high school, alright?"

"What?"

"He punched me a few times. And I may or may have not punched him back." A shiver rolls down his spine at the ominous look on Antonio's face. "I swear, he's a loose cannon. This guy is bad news, Toni. If I'm bad— which I'm _not_, because I'm awesome— then he's worse. _Way _worse."

"How?"

"Dude, he punched you in the face just last week. And you're gonna ask me how shitty he is?"

"But I want to know!"

Francis comes back from the comfort room, raising an eyebrow at his friends, a small smirk playing at his lips. "Onhonhon~ What're you two talking about, _mes amis_?"

Gilbert rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. "He's ranting again. About Lovino this time."

A sigh escapes the Frenchman's lips as he pats the brunette's shoulder. "You'll get over it soon enough, Antoine."

Antonio knits his brows together, nonplussed. "Get over what?"

The blond gives him an enigmatic smile. "You'll know soon enough."

* * *

Later that night, Lovino found himself sitting in front of his laptop, engrossed in trying to customise his blog's layout. He spent hours sifting through different sites for different themes before settling for one offered by Tumblr itself. He spent a good hour just choosing colour schemes, all the while finding a cursor. He settle for a hand raising up a middle finger because he kinda found it funny as fuck.

He kinda liked his URL. It was anti-social, just like him. _**'pxss-off'**_.

Maybe… making a Tumblr wasn't such a bad idea after all?

_Bzzzt!_

His eyes flicker over to his phone. It was a text from Bella.

**Bella: Hey :D Check your fb Lovi. We got the assistance schedules from the PAS.**

He seenzoned her and immediately checked his Facebook in anticipation. On the group he was added in for the PAS' freshmen, he was tagged in a comment to a file posted onto the group by Bella. All the freshmen and volunteers would start helping out next week.

The Italian felt his palms sweat in anxiousness and excitement.

Little did he know that the months to come would be the greatest of his life.

* * *

**Translations:**

_buon giorno _\- good morning (It.)  
_fratello _\- brother (It.)  
_nonno _\- grandfather (It.)  
_Dio _\- God (It.)  
_fratellino _\- little brother (It.)  
_Gott _\- God (Dt.)  
_mon ami _\- my friend (Fr.)  
_scheiße _\- shit (Dt.)  
_mes amis _\- my friends (Fr.)

**Hey guys D; Sorry for the delayed update… **_**again**_**. I finally finished all my theses and my finals start Tuesday. Wish me luck, though bc I really need to keep my scholarship. :') It funds 100% of my tuition fee so chances are, no update later in the week either, bc I'll be studying my brain out. OTL**

**I apologise if this chapter sucked, and was choppy. All this schoolwork sucked out all my brain juice. So now, I'm like. Dead.**

**But I hope you guys liked it. :D This chapter was full of filler since I needed it to connect to a main chapter. Totes stoked to write the next chapter :D**

**Oh, yeah. Lovi's blog on Tumblr is real, by the way. I made it a few days ago.**

**URL: pxss-off**

**It's not an RP blog per se, but it **_**is **_**in-character for this fic's Lovino. Oh, yeah~. Expect a bit of a time skip in the next chapter. It's about time this plot's started rolling. :D**

**~jellydonut16~**

**P.S. This story is more ambiguous than you think. ;D**

**P.P.S. Feel free to give me constructive criticism :D And reviews. Reviews are niiice. They make me feel motivated.**


	15. fifteen

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

**_Kicking the Bucket List_**

**fifteen**

**"_You see I got a conscience like gasoline  
_****_I could siphon shit out, fuck it and leave  
_****_But, I fuel the fire with everything they said  
_****_It__'__s stuck in my mind, __'__You__'__re better off dead__'  
_****_If you got the keys then start the car and  
_****_Drive as far as you can  
_****_If you got the blood then you got the heart to  
_****_Give yourself a chance  
_****_Seems like we__'__ve been so scarred  
_****_Some people call it art  
_****_I hope you make peace with your pain  
_****_And never lose your flames_"  
****— _Never Lose Your Flames_ by Issues**

Life is a play, Allistor knew that much. The dramatis personae in his life were many and varied, bringing vibrance and colour into his life as a student in Evergreen Hollows University. It had been a wonderful three years indeed, going on four much too soon for his liking.

But then there was him; Lovino Vargas. The aspiring dramatist that had suddenly appeared in his life, occupying his mind much too often to be considered healthy. Truth be told, Allistor never planned to get so… so attached to him, but somehow, they just _clicked_. They got along splendidly, and there was never a dull moment with him, Lovino. But as of recent, there's been this fluttery feeling that spread throughout Allistor's stomach and chest every single time Lovino happened to be in the room. And Allistor hadn't felt that way in a _very_ long time.

The redhead instantly spotted the Italian from across the room, entering the auditorium with his friends. Victoria, keen as ever, was quick to assess the freshmen, attendance sheets in hand.

Like magnets, the Italian and the Scotsman's eyes instantly met, forest green meeting hazel. Allistor offered the older Vargas twin a coy smile, prompting the latter to blush a light shade of red, the corner of his lips tugging upwards in response. Truth be told, the redhead found it endearing whenever Lovino smiled. Over the past few weeks, he's noticed that Lovino never did it enough. And even then, sometimes his smiles were fake. He wanted to change that.

It was a Friday now; majority of the freshmen were looking forward to the weekend because it meant that they'd finally get some well-deserved time off. However, the seniors constantly had to work around the clock if they wanted to get the play completely perfect in time for the end of the year. In fact, the actors and actresses have begun going over the script with no time to waste. It was heavy and thick; the fruit of Oliver, the playwright's, efforts, as a culmination of his four years here in Evergreen Hollows University. Even now, it was still undergoing revisions.

"How about we grab some pizza after this?" Leila Cross speaks up; she was to portray one of the main characters in the play, and is the treasurer for their group. She oversees all of the costs their play will incur, props and materials included.

"I'm down," Magda easily replies, glancing up from one of the props that needed to be crafted. The British-Indian motions over to the group of freshmen, and select sophomores. "How about we invite the newbies, though? We could call it team building. It'll be good for us, I think."

Leila hums in contemplation. "I _suppose _we can. Do you think that any of them would _want _to go?"

"Of course they would!" The other replies, standing up and dusting her hands on her jeans. "How about this; I'll ask them after we're done, alright?"

The French-Polynesian, though skeptical, obliges. Allistor manages to tune out the both of them easily, instead focussing his attention on the Italian across the room.

Lovino was sitting on the tarp-covered ground with Bella beside him, opening the pots of paint for the props they'd be painting. The play seemed like it was going to be somewhat modern and minimalistic. Most colours they had were either white, gold or silver. Colours of lavish purity, reminiscent of masques from times past. It was to be an opera like no other.

A pang in Allistor's chest prompted him to look away. He made his way to the stage, where there were many folding chairs set out. The actors and actresses sat on them as they went through their lines, barely two minutes into the first act. He got up on stage and grabbed a copy of the script off an empty chair and flipped to where they were.

* * *

"So," Allistor starts after the freshmen have finished helping out, sitting down beside Lovino on the tarp as the latter hammers the lids back down on the pots and buckets of paint. He sidles quarter of an inch, half an inch closer (not that it made that much of a difference). "After classes, th' seniors an' Ah are going out for pizza, so… We were finkin' we'd invite th' freshmen too an'… an'… would yeh like ta come wif?"

He holds his breath in anticipation as Lovino slowly grows rigid, his eyes downcast on his paint-stained hands.

"Please?" The redhead adds, hoping that'd help.

"He'd love to!" Bella is quick to cut in, placing her equally stained hands on Lovino's shoulders.

"What?" Lovino blurts out, the aghast expression on his face betrayed by the intense reddening of his cheeks.

"_We__'__d _love to!" The blond corrects, a million-dollar smile on her face. The very same one that got her 'Best Smile' in the high school yearbook four years in a row. Yes~. Four years. Really. Just as Lovino is about to protest, she quickly shushes him. "We'll see you there. Don't you worry~!"

* * *

"You are too stubborn, _mon lapin_." Francis says, eyeing the Briton sitting beside him.

Arthur Kirkland could only harrumph and cross his arms over his chest. "When will you finally get it in that bloody thick head of yours that I _don__'__t want to talk about it_! It's over and done now anyway, frog."

An exasperated sigh escapes the Frenchman's lips. "You trust Michelle, yet you don't trust me."

Antonio glances up at the bickering blonds and he frowns. He wasn't very fond of Arthur, even though they'd only known each other for a short time. To him, Arthur was the epitome of an angry old man. One that probably wears dentures and uses a walker, and throws rocks instead of bread crumbs at pigeons in the park. He was much too caustic and melodramatic.

Whenever Franny would try and talk to him, Arthur would start this jeremiad of complaints and excuses, but _never_ about what Francis wanted to discuss with him the most.

But in a way, Arthur was somewhat similar to Lovino, but at the same time, not. Like, they were angry all the time, for one. Maybe it was just some inborn hatred for the earth and everything that happened to live on it. Though Antonio could tolerate the Briton— but just barely— he had much more… _patience _with the moody Italian. Which was weird, because Antonio's never had a full-out brawl with Arthur in the middle of the courtyard as he did with Lovino. So shouldn't he hate Lovino more..? Why didn't he?

Gilbert sets down his books in front of him, grinning in excitement. Francis draws his attention away from the Briton to greet Gilbert. "Ah, Gilbert. How was class, _mon ami_?"

The self-proclaimed Prussian nods, alabaster cheeks lightly flushed. "_Gott_, it— it was great!" He fidgets about in his seat out of excitement. "I met someone."

"Ooh~ Who is it?" Antonio asks, curiosity bringing him out of his thoughts, albeit only temporarily.

"His name is Mathew," he says, crimson eyes gleaming.

This catches Arthur's attention. His olive green eyes widen in recognition. "Mathew?" He echoes. "Mathew Williams?"

The albino finally takes notice of their 'extra guest' and he stares at him warily. "_Ja_, what's it to you, Tommy?"

Arthur chuckles lowly, slowly shaking his head in amusement. "I doubt you'll be getting any headway with him. He's Alfred's half-brother, git."

Gilbert narrows his eyes a fraction, leaning in and smirking at the Briton. "Oh, don't you worry; I have my ways."

Francis, always the mediator of the group, audibly clears his throat. Time for a subject change. _Now_.

"Ah~ Antoine! How is everything with Feliciano, by the way?"

"Huh?" Asks Antonio, caught off guard by the question. Arthur snickers. Antonio narrows his eyes at him.

"Any progress with Feli yet?" Franny rephrases, cerulean blue eyes shifting from the brunette to the blond beside him and back.

Emerald green eyes widen as Antonio glances down, almost sheepishly. "Um. Oh." He laughs. "No, not really, _amigo_~."

Just as Francis is about to question him further, Antonio's phone goes off. The brunette raises a finger up, retrieving the phone from his pocket and pressing it to his ear.

"_Antonio.__"_ The aforementioned instinctively stiffens at the once-familiar voice.

He turns away before getting up, opting to find a more secluded place. "Alvarez. Hi," he says awkwardly, hyperaware of Gilbert and Francis' concerned stares burning holes into his back. "How's mama?"

Several seconds of tense silence befalls them before his estranged older brother finally speaks up._ "__Not so well.__"_ Antonio's heart sinks to the bottom of his chest._ "__The doctors say she__'__s getting worse.__"_

His throat constricts painfully; he's finding it hard to speak, let alone find the right words to say. "R-Really?" He manages to choke out.

"_I went to visit her the other day. She seemed okay then, but now__…" _Alvarez trails off, leaving Antonio hanging. A shaky breath escapes his lips as he tightens his grip on his phone.

"_You should fly down sometime and visit her. Surely, money isn__'__t a problem, is it?__"_ The Spaniard stiffens. Of course it wasn't. Alvarez worked enough to support all of them lavishly and more. Alvarez is a workaholic. Always has been, probably always will be.

Antonio swallows hard before answering. "No, it isn't."

Several seconds of more awkward silence passes before Alvarez finally decides that Antonio's had enough of his precious time. _"__Well, I have to go now. I have a meeting in a few minutes.__"_

"_Adios_, Alvarez," saying his name leaves a bitter taste on Antonio's tongue, however guilty it made him feel.

_"_Adeus_, Antonio. I__'__ll contact you if something comes up.__"_ Alvarez answers, tone curt and clipped; business-like. As always.

_Click._

Antonio holds the phone to his ear, even after Alvarez has hung up. The smartphone had considerably heated up because of the call. Slowly, he draws the phone down to his side, eyes downcast. A million things are running through his mind, not a single one of them the least bit pleasant. He walks back to the others, the news dampening his spirits.

Francis and Gilbert look up at him. "Who was that?" Francis asks.

Antonio feigns a smile. "Ah, it was just _mi hermano_. He was calling to make sure I didn't spend all my money and all."

That was a lie.

If there was one thing that Francis and Gilbert knew about Antonio and his brother, it was that his older brother didn't particularly care how he spent his money. A drunken online purchase of a barrel of sangria and two giant googly eyes could attest to that. The two eye him warily. Something was up.

Antonio meets their inquisitive gazes, usually vibrant green eyes growing a little more weary; tired. He knows they know there's something amiss. But he shakes his head tersely, eyes pleading them, _please, not now_.

"Later then," Gilbert mouths, imperceptibly nodding in response.

Arthur barely pays the exchange between the trio any mind, his own olive green eyes focussed on the person casually striding towards them. It was none other than his older brother, Allistor.

"'Ello!" The redhead greets, grinning at them.

Francis, having known the Scotsman due to their course of Performing Arts, takes the initiative and introduces him to his friends. "_Bonjour_, Allistor. Allistor, these are _mes amis_, Gilbert and Antonio." Allistor firmly shakes Gilbert and Antonio's hands.

"Gilbert, Antonio; good ta meet yeh." Says the redhead, drawing back.

Arthur warily glances up at his brother. "What can I do for you, brother mine?" He asks, sarcasm dripping off his words.

Allistor can only laugh in amusement. "Ah swear ta God, yeh watch too much _Sherlock_. Ah'm no Mycroft; maybe Liam is, but not me. Anyways, tell Colin Ah'll be 'ome late tonigh'. Ah'm goin' out for dinner wif me mates, yeh got tha'?"

The blond rolls his eyes. "But of course. Now bugger off."

"Yeh'll get over it soon enough, _brother mine_." Allistor drawls, chortling before waving at them and walking away.

* * *

Later after classes, Lovino hitched a ride with Bella as they rendezvoused with the others in a pizza parlour, La Cucina Italiano. It wasn't big, but it was large enough to have ample seating to accommodate them all, even on a Friday night. The restaurant neared the outskirts of the city, a few kilometres away from the ugly mall Lovino hated with every fibre of his being. And it had a parking lot, thank God.

The moment the two stepped in, the wafting aroma of pizza and cooking garlic hit them like a ton of bricks; Lovino especially, as he hadn't had anything for lunch, save for a mason jar of pink lemonade and a croque-monsieur. He took in his surroundings as his stomach growled. La Cucina Italiano looked somewhat classier than other run-of-the-mill pizzerias; it was homelier, at that. The golden yellow stucco walls offset the orange tiles beneath his feet, as he wound his way through numerous wooden tables draped with red and white chequered tablecloth. Many of the tables were taken.

Bella had grabbed hold of Lovino's hand and led them to the very back of the room where everyone else was. The tables were joined together in order to make one large table. The seniors were already there, two of which were busily rattling off everyone's orders to a waiter.

Elizabeta and Feliks were already there; Michelle wanted to go back home and take a shower, so she isn't here yet. Lovino's heart skipped a beat the moment he saw the back of Allistor's head. Bella pulled him forward and sat a seat apart from the Scotsman, beside Elizabeta. Lovino stilled before glaring at Bella and sitting beside perfection personified. Eliza leant forward and gave him a suggestive wink, but he was too busy staring at his hands to notice. His face had grown considerably red, all the way to the tips of his ears.

Allistor hadn't taken notice of the Italian yet, as he was busy talking to one of his friends. This caught Bella's eye, so she feigned a yawn and reached over Lovino's shoulder so she could give the redhead a nudge. Allistor jolted in surprise, turning to find Lovino hunched beside him. He beamed.

"Hey, yeh came tonigh'!" The Scot exclaims, shifting around in his seat to face the Italian. Lovino could feel the heat radiating from Allistor's body.

"Yeah," the former mumbles in response.

"Ah'm glad. 'Ow was class, Lov?"

"Fine."

Lovino hated how his mind was such a blank, he was a mess whenever he was with Allistor. As of late, it's been getting shittier; best he could come up with were monosyllabic responses, and he hated it. So, so very much.

Allistor was bound to get fed up with him that way, and it was like Lovino was teetering on top of a fulcrum. Over the past few weeks, he was _relatively_ close enough to Allistor to walk up and talk to him, but he _really _didn't want to say anything that would scare him away, or turn him off. God knows Lovino ruined everything he touched. And it was just so fucking _hard_. So there he was, precariously dissecting everything he could say until all he could say consisted of one word, maybe three at most— Jesus _Christ_, _this _is the reason why he avoided people in the first place. He couldn't socialise for _shit_. He possessed _no_ savoir faire whatsoever, which only worsened the anxiety he got around people. The only people that talked to him were the ones who initiated all the talking, save for Feli and _Nonno_, because they're family. They _had _to talk to him. So there's Bella. Sometimes Feliks and Elizabeta. He rarely got to talk to Michelle.

Then there was _him_; perfection personified. Oh, God, did he— Allistor— _try_. Lovino had no idea why the redhead still stuck around a dweeb like him, one that couldn't even carry a conversation without swearing like a sailor, or trailing off because he didn't know what to say. But bless him for that, _Dio_. Oh, God. Bless him for trying.

But Lovino was so scared to reach out to him in fear of falling and never being able to get up again. _Dio_, he felt so _conflicted_, he didn't know what to do or say anymore. Sometimes, Lovino thought that it would have been better if Allistor overlooked him entirely that day he signed up for the PAS, but _no_. Allistor gave a shit about him, something no one outside his family— save for Bella— has ever done.

And that meant so fucking _much_. So much, Lovino was afraid the smallest move would ruin it all. Like a house of cards toppled over at the slightest breath.

"Yeh're so quiet nowadays. Anyfing goin' on?" The redhead presses on, leaning forward so he could have a better look-see at Lovino.

"Yeah," Lovino automatically responds, breaking out of his thoughts. Then he shakes his head tersely. "I mean no. No, I'm fine." He facepalms himself. Why the hell couldn't he do anything right? "Dammit."

"Yeh seem stressed, Lov. School finally catching up ta yeh?"

Oh, God. He's too close. Allistor is too close. He's leaning in, and the heat radiating off of him rolls over Lovino's skin in waves. _Dio_, he smelled amazing. The Scotsman's intoxicating scent saturates the air around him, nearly suffocating him (_it__'__d be a pleasurable death_, he subconsciously thinks). His breath grew a little quicker, his mind a little hazier; Lovino manages to mumble a 'No fucking way, I graduated high school with honours; this shit doesn't faze me'.

Allistor laughs, and Lovino falls for him even more. "Well, just try an' relax today, okay? Yeh deserve it."

* * *

"How do yeh find yer pizza?" Allistor asks, as Lovino takes another slice of pizza. "Ah mean, in terms of yer expertise in Italian food."

"It's an American pizza." Is the Italian's response, as if that was all that needed to be said, and together, they laugh. After the laughter subsides, however, he continues. "Well, there's too much cheese— as the American standard— nearly not enough tomato sauce, and I don't think Americans have ever heard of the words 'basil' or 'herbs' before. Plus," he lifts his pizza up and points at the oil residue on his plate. "It's too oily. Real Italian pizza doesn't drip with oil."

Allistor nods, intently listening. "Do go on, Lov. This is very much invigorating."

"Um," A breathless laugh escapes Lovino's lips. "Yeah. Look at the crust. Pan crusts are a no-no."

"Ooh, a no-no. Fascinating."

Lovino couldn't help but roll his eyes, playfully shoving Allistor's shoulder away. "Shut up, dammit. _Anyways_, the crust is too thick. It's supposed to be thinner, _much _thinner, and not oily at all."

Allistor leans back, smiling at Lovino. He grabs his fork and holds it close to his mouth akin a mic. "Well, tha' was an excellent dissertation on pizza, Chef Lovino. So tell us, when is th' new restaurant opening?"

He holds the fork near Lovino's mouth, and the latter snorts, pushing Allistor's hand away. "What the hell are you doing?"

The redhead speaks into the fork once again, "Th' grand opening, chef! Of yer new restaurant!"

An exasperated laugh escapes Lovino's lips. "I am _not_ doing this. I swear to God."

But Allistor ignores him anyway and continues holding the 'mic' an inch or so from Lovino's lips. The latter finally gives in and entertains the Scotsman.

"_Fine_." He clears his throat, and replies in a poor impression of a French accent. "Wee-wee, Ah em very… _excited_, honhon baguette, to introduce ze… Ze _my _new restaurant, Château Frog, on ze twenty-fifth. One of my favou_reet_ dishes to make ees ze escargot— ze snail?— and ze frog's legs? House special, eet ees ze house special. You should try eet sometime, monsieur." He kisses the tips of his fingers on one hand before he flourishes it before himself. "Eet is _tres magnifique_!"

Allistor howls in laughter, clutching his stomach. "God, Lov, yeh're _amazing_!" He roars in between fits of laughter. Without being fully aware of it, he cups Lovino's cheeks and leans in. "Ah could jus' kiss yeh righ' now,"

Then all grows silent. Lovino's face becomes very, very red as he stares at Allistor, wide-eyed. "U-Uh," Lovino stammers out, abruptly standing up from his seat. "I need to wash my hands."

The Italian is quick to rush off, eyes downcast. It feels like his cheeks are on _fire_. He heads to the hand washing area and twists the tap on, shoving his hands under the water. Allistor _can__'__t _be serious, right? It— It was _just in the moment_, dammit, it didn't mean a thing! So just calm the fuck down. Calm the fuck down.

Lovino's scrubbing furiously at his hands, too lost in his thoughts to register anything else. So it was no surprise that he jumped upon seeing Allistor's reflection in the mirror. The Scot laughs at his reaction before standing beside Lovino so he, too, could wash his hands. Lovino automatically steps aside.

"Are yeh going 'ome after this?" Allistor asks.

The Italian resolutely avoids meeting his gaze, his cheeks still glowing a very deep red.

"Um, yeah. I'm waiting for Bella to finish so she can drive me home."

"Oh?" Allistor glances up at him before he returns his focus to rinsing his hands. "Well, Ah can drive yeh 'ome if yeh want."

"No, it's— it's okay. I don't want to burden you or anything, dammit." The older Vargas is quick to cut in.

"'Ow many times do Ah 'ave ta tell yeh? Yeh're nota burden. Really, Lov, do yeh really fink tha' lowly of yerself?"

Despite all of earlier's jests, a terse silence confirms it all.

The redhead is quick to make best of the situation. "Say, 'ow about yeh an' me go for a drink. Wait. Do yeh even drink?"

Lovino looks at him incredulously, thankful for the change of topic. "Of course I do. I'm Italian."

"Let's grab a pint then. On me. An' Ah know jus' th' place."

A small smirk tugs at the corner of Lovino's lips as their eyes met. "Sure."

* * *

The 'just the place' Allistor spoke of was a German-Irish rathskeller called Dudley's Pub. Allistor parked his dark green Mustang in front of the bar, and opened the door for Lovino despite the Italian's protests. He was punched in the arm as just retribution.

Dudley's Pub was fuggy with cigarette smoke. The more 'health-conscious' ones used vapes, or electronic cigarettes in their steads. Either way, the secondhand smoke would fuck them all. Allistor easily weaved his way through the pub, grabbing an empty table. Music by Rammstein was barely heard over the commotion; the flatscreen TV overhead the corner of the bar showing a football (not _rugby_, mind you) match was on mute. There were several men seated at the bar, watching intently.

"Ah'll be righ' back. Heineken good?"

Lovino snaps out of his thoughts and turns to Allistor. He internally withered at the notion of partaking beer without getting totally schwasted. But for perfection personified? He'd drink a tower of it. "Sure."

And just like that, Allistor disappears into the crowd.

* * *

"Come on, Toni. _Gott_, it's a _Friday night_! We used to do this all the time!" Gilbert urges, shaking a glum Antonio's shoulders. "It'll get your mind off of things."

"I agree with Gilbert, Antoine." Francis concurs, eyeing the Spaniard with concern. "You need a drink."

"I think we all do!" Says Gilbert, trying to pull Antonio up. The latter lets himself be pulled up to his feet almost obsequiously. "_Fick ja_! Time for the Bad Touch Trio to go out and about!"

Antonio manages a small tired smile.

"Let's go bar-hopping," Gilbert continues, manoeuvring Antonio out of the apartment the three of them shared. "We'll drink 'til we drop!"

"But who'll drive?" Antonio asks.

Gilbert pauses for a second before shrugging his shoulders. "We'll grab a taxi. Don't you worry, _mein Freund_, this night will be _awesome_."

* * *

"So Oliver is _proper drunk_, yeah? In 'is inebriated state, he _climbs _over th' gate, an' 'e ends up stealin' a bloody golf cart! Security is chasin' after 'im, Mags is screaming bloody murder, an' all Ah could do was laugh!"

Lovino leans over the table, doubling up in laughter.

"Basically," Allistor concludes, "We aren't allowed in that mall anymore. It were a good fing we weren't arrested! God." He facepalms himself. "Ah was such a ned then, Lov. Yeh would not believe _half _th' stupid shit Ah've done in college."

"Tell me!" Lovino urges before he gulps the last of his beer. They've had two pints each now, and Lovino's got a nice buzz going on. Good vibes. He eyes Allistor through the bottom of his beer glass. He'd have called them literal beer goggles, but he only has one mug. Perhaps it can be a beer telescope, _si_?

"No, no," the Scotsman says, shaking his head. "Ah'd die of embarrassment. Ah'm honestly surprised Ah wasn't arrested."

"That bad?"

"Yes, sadly."

"No _way_."

"Yes way."

"No freaking _way_."

"Are yeh truly tha' surprised?"

"Of course I am! Look at you! You wouldn't hurt a _fly_."

"Really, now?" Allistor straightens up. Lovino internally revels in this triumph. The redhead _so _took the bait. "Well, Ah'll 'ave yeh know tha' Ah—"

And then he suddenly cuts off, forest green eyes widening in realisation. He gives Lovino a knowing grin, waggling his finger at him. "Ah, ah, ah! Ah know wha' yer trying ta do, yeh sneaky li'l bugger!"

The Italian smacks his hand away, flushing a bright red. "Sh-shut up! I wasn't trying to do anything, dammit!"

"Oh, but yeh _were_," Allistor insists, his tone taking on a teasing lilt. He sits up straighter, grabbing both of the beer mugs on the small wooden table. "Yeh up for another one?"

Lovino takes them from him and gets up from the equally small wooden stool. "Yeah. I'll pay this time. You want pretzel sticks too?"

"Nah, Ah'm full." Allistor says, waving a hand dismissively.

"Sure. I'll get some for myself then." Lovino says, making his way over to the bar.

* * *

"Ooh~ I've never been here before~!" Says Antonio, as the Bad Touch Trio made their way down the concrete stairs of a pub they'd just discovered, a couple of blocks away from Bacchus, a wine bar Francis often frequented. It was called Dudley's Pub. It seemed pretty nice~!

Once the trio got down, they saw that the room was relatively crowded, buzzing with all sorts of activity. They managed to snag three empty seats, as a guy just vacated one and stumbled towards the staircase.

Gilbert immediately ordered three bottles of beer and a bowl of nuts while Antonio started watching the football match on TV. Francis automatically starts scanning the bar for anyone who could be his one night bedfellow. Cerulean blue eyes glaze over the bartenders, and he sees one on the opposite end of the room, a pretty brunette with a sizeable bust. She was busy animatedly talking to— Francis's eyes widen— Lovino Vargas? He was leaning over the bar, a coquettish smile playing upon his lips as he charmed the bartender to the nines.

She fills up two pint pots with Heineken from the beer tap and languidly slides it over to him, leaning down just in case Lovino wanted to take a gander at her chest.

This undoubtedly piqued the Frenchman's curiosity. Why would Lovino be _here _of all places? It's a _rathskeller_; something of German design. Plus he would usually be adverse to any trace of human existence. But perhaps it is because he came with someone? That other pint _has _to belong to someone else, after all, _oui_?

The bartender sets a plastic cup of pretzel sticks down on the counter, slipping a piece of paper into the Italian's hand. Lovino smirks at her before walking off, two pints of beer in one hand, a cup of pretzel sticks in the other.

From across the room, Francis follows Lovino with his eyes, wholly surprised to see the truculent Italian sitting in front of Allistor Kirkland, a more gentle smile on the Vargas twin's face.

Oh. Well.

This is quite… _interesting_, to say the least.

"…Hey. Franny. Franny, are you listening?" The blond forces himself to turn away and face Gilbert.

"Yes, _mon ami_?"

Gilbert blinks in disbelief. "You weren't listening to a word I said? _Gott_. _Any_ways, so I got to talk to Mathew earlier, _ja_?"

Francis absently nods, majority of his attention still on the odd couple in the back of the room. If they really _were _an item, he could only hope that Antonio's sudden fascination with Lovino was short-lived, and that it would go away as fast as it came.

After downing his beer, he took a quick glance behind him. Allistor and Lovino were gone.

* * *

It was nice being in Allistor's car. The plush leather seats were nice, the car was nice, the person who _drove _the car was even nicer.

Nice, nice, nice.

Together, they rode in this mellow and comfortable silence, the buzz still going strong. Lovino slowly turned to face Allistor, admiring the silhouette of his face in the passing streetlights. Even though the crossroad was barren of any other cars, the moment the stoplight turned from green to yellow, Allistor didn't book it; he slowed down to a halt as the light turned red.

Lovino, being the covert Italian Speed Demon he was, found the action agonising. When a light is yellow, you put the pedal to the fucking metal, _especially _if there aren't any other cars around. It's like common knowledge! It's _universal_!

As they sit in more silence, Allistor leans forward and switches the radio on. Ed Sheeran is pouring out of the speakers, crooning out the first verse of _Thinking Out Loud_. To Lovino's surprise, Allistor starts to sing along to it. "Will yer mouth still remember th' taste of my love? Will yer eyes still smile from your cheeks?"

And their eyes met. "And, darling, Ah will be loving yeh 'til we're seventy."

A smile crept onto Lovino's lips, as Allistor continued singing. "And, baby, my heart could still fall as hard at twenty-three."

That's when Lovino couldn't help but jump in, prompting Allistor's eyes to widen in pleasant shock. "And I'm thinking 'bout how people fall in love in mysterious ways, maybe just the touch of a hand. Me, I fall in love with you every single day. And I just wanna tell you I am—"

"So honey now~" Allistor sung, voice cracking a bit at the end. They laugh it off; upon noticing the light's turned green, the redhead kept on driving.

"Maybe we found love right where we are." Lovino sings under his breath, hyperaware of the Scotsman turning to look at him every so often.

* * *

The ride ends too soon; much too fast for Lovino's liking. The Mustang is parked outside the Vargas brothers' apartment building, and all is still. The radio is still on, but it's much more quieter. Truth be told, Allistor doesn't want Lovino to leave, and he has a hunch Lovino doesn't want to go either.

The night was still young, wasn't it?

Allistor glanced at the clock built into the stereo. It was nearing one AM.

No, it wasn't. It was an ungodly hour in the morning.

He slowly looks up at Lovino, and the Italian does the same. The Scot can't help but laugh and smile. "Ah always 'ave fun when Ah'm wif yeh, Lov." He starts, and Lovino can't help but notice the way the corners of Allistor's eyes crinkle when he smiles. "It's— It's like Ah forget _everything_; th' play, th' deadlines, th' re'earsals, an' Ah get ta live in th' moment, if only for a bit."

"Same," Lovino lamely says, sincerely at a loss for words.

The Scotsman leans in a bit closer to Lovino. "Yer face is _so red_," he points out, prompting the Italian to blush even deeper.

"I know," the Vargas brother grumbles, covering his burning cheeks with the palms of his hands. "I hate it."

"Ah like it though." He leans in even closer. Lovino subconsciously does the same, hands drifting back down to his lap. Allistor bites his bottom lip before he reaches up and brushes a stray tendril of dark brown hair away from Lovino's face.

"Ah like yer face." Allistor whispers, and Lovino instinctively smacks Allistor's hand away.

"Sh-shut up, dammit!" Allistor laughs, and in that one precious, _ephemeral_ moment, everything is so fucking _perfect_, and it's all because of perfection personified beside him.

"Ah guess it's about time Ah let yeh go, innit? Ah've kept yeh hostage in me car long enough. Sorry, Lov; yeh must be proper knackered righ' now."

"It's fine," the Italian mumbles, undoing his seatbelt. "I don't mind."

"Well, Ah'm glad. Say, when do yeh fink we can… do this again?"

Wait. What? Is he— Is he serious? Answer. _Answer_, dammit!

"What about tomorrow, for dinner?" He manages to croak out, blushing too hard to function. _Dio mio._

It's Allistor's turn to flush this time. "Yes, right! That'd be wonderful!"

The two exchange numbers before Lovino finally exits the car. Allistor smiles at him. "Goodnight, Lov."

The brunette manages a small smirk back. "_Buono notte_, bastard." He slams the door shut and makes his way to the building without a second glance back. When he's safely inside the lobby, Allistor finally drives off.

Lovino uses his key and smoothly sidles into the apartment without any ruckus. The moment he got to his room, he flopped down on his bed and expected to be out like a light. But he couldn't stop smiling; he couldn't stop laughing to himself. He was too giddy, too wired to sleep.

_Bzzzt!_

**Allistor: Tonight was amazing. See you tomorrow ;-)**

* * *

"Ve~ How was dinner last night, _fratello_?" Feliciano asks, bustling around the kitchen making breakfast as Lovino lounged on the couch in the living room, busying himself with channel-surfing.

"Fine," Lovino mumbles, honestly still half-asleep even at nine in the morning. After last night, it took him a while to finally succumb to slumber. And even then, it was already three AM. So technically, he lacked a few more hours of sleep.

_Bzzzt!_

**Allistor: Good morning Lov :-)**

Lovino flushes a bright shade of red, biting his bottom lip to keep himself from smiling. He casts a quick sideway glance at Feliciano. He was busy sautéing chicken breasts. Making himself a little bit more comfortable on the couch, Lovino unlocked his phone and typed out a reply before hitting the backspace.

Shit. What should he say?

He nervously licks his lips.

**Lovino: Morning to you too**

Then he hits 'send'. Wait. What if it looks too serious? Goddammit. Lovino sent a sleepy face emoji just in case.

Oh, God. Allistor has read receipts set on. The older Vargas brother's heart nearly palpitates upon quickly seeing a 'Read 9:36' underneath his message. He's awake right now (of _course_ he is, Lovino, you fucking spastic noodle), and he's fucking _typing a reply_.

_Bzzzt!_

**Allistor: What time should I pick you up? Have a place in mind yet? :-)**

Did Allistor really have to put noses on his smiley faces like that? It looks all awkward now. Only old people do that, don't they? Goddammit, Allistor, bless your fucking heart. You are a precious human being.

Lovino could only rack his mind for something relatively comprehensible in response.

**Lovino: Nah not yet. Maybe around 7?**

The Italian quickly glances up to see Feli busily plating their food, even though it was just for breakfast. Force of habit, maybe.

"_Fratello_, it's time to eat~!" The younger twin sings out, setting both plates on the dining table they seldom used.

"Yeah, yeah," Lovino mumbles, getting up from the couch. He takes a seat as Feli sets two mugs of coffee in front of him, quickly leaning down to peck his cheek.

"I feel like I rarely ever see you anymore!" Feliciano whines, sitting on the chair across him.

Lovino thinks of Allistor and feels guilty for a moment. "I've been busy, you know? With helping out after classes and all…"

"I miss you, Lovi~."

The older Vargas brother leans over to ruffle Feliciano's hair, eliciting a breathy 'Ve~' from his brother's lips. "I miss you too, idiot."

The twins spent the day watching movies on HBO, just catching up on life. Well, it was Feliciano, rather, the one who was following up what's been going on the past few weeks, whilst Lovino merely made comments. Honestly? He didn't really want to divulge anything to Feli about his… his _fixation _with Allistor. It was bad enough Elizabeta found out, but who can keep secrets from someone like her nowadays? _Dio_, she's like Gretchen from _Mean Girls_.

She knows _everything _about _everyone_. That's why her boobs are so big; they're full of secrets.

When the afternoon rolled around, however, Feliciano finally rolled off of the couch after the two brothers took a siesta, and got ready to go to Ludwig and Kiku's apartment. It wasn't really an apartment per se, but more of a boarding house to cater to the students of Evergreen Hollows University.

"Ve~ I'm going to Kiku's, Lovi," he whispers into Lovino's ear, crouching down beside his brother on the couch. He brushes the hair out of his _fratellone_'s face and runs his fingers through Lovi's hair.

Ve~ It's so nice when Lovi is asleep. It's quiet, it's peaceful~

"Leave me alone," Lovino mumbles, voice laced with sleep.

The younger twin smiles before leaving the apartment, locking the door behind him.

* * *

"Hey, Lov," Allistor greets as Lovino gets into the Mustang and shuts the door close.

"Hey," Lovino greets back, putting on his seatbelt.

"Got a place in mind?" The redhead asks, pulling out of his spot in front of the apartment building.

Lovino shakes his head. "No, I slept on it. I got nothing."

"Well, Ah know this nice Japanese place uptown. Wanna go there?"

"Whatever's fine with me, I guess." The Italian picks at the hem of his black button down. "H-How was your day, bastard?"

"Oh, it was great! Not much progress, but yeah. Th' work of a play director is never done until th' play has gone on. Then, it's all Ty's job now as a stage director ta make sure everyfing runs smoothly. Ah'm more on th' creative process, really."

A silence thick with tension fell between them. It was weird and it was awkward, but not in a bad way. It was like they _knew_, or at least had a damn good hunch, to where they were inevitably headed. Allistor even switched the radio on and all, but still, it couldn't pull them out of this limbo between being friends and being something more— so much more. As the redhead reached down to change gears, his hand accidentally brushed against Lovino's. The latter flinched, pulling his hand away as if he'd been burnt.

"Sorry, did Ah hurt yeh?" Allistor is quick to ask, reaching out to try and grab Lovino's hand without looking away from the road.

"No, don't— don't fucking worry about it, dammit. It's fine. Nothing happened." Lovino is quick to answer, whacking the redhead's hand away.

"Sure now, Lov?" He presses on.

"Dead sure."

"Yeh know yeh can talk ta me about anyfink, righ'?"

Lovino's heart skipped a beat. No, he couldn't. He wouldn't. Allistor probably wouldn't be able to handle it.

"I guess," the Italian lamely says, glancing up at Allistor.

The Scotsman took him to a sushi bar somewhere in the area Bella lived, uptown. They managed to snag the last two vacant seats next to each other. Lovino stared at all the different types of sushi passing by on conveyor belts. _Dio_, it was actually cool as fuck.

He ordered some warm sake for the both of them as they started picking off small coloured plates off of the conveyor belt. As they ate, the two debated the pros and cons of making plays and films. Allistor was all for theatre, whereas Lovino preferred movies. After dinner, upon Allistor's insistence and despite Lovino's protests, the redhead paid the bill and left no room for argument when it was already done. The two got in the Mustang and the redhead switched the ignition on before pulling out of the parking slot and entering the main road back to the heart of the city.

They sat in silence for a while, just enjoying each other's company, before the redhead spoke up. "Say, Lov?"

"Mm?"

Allistor taps his fingers on the steering wheel, staring intently at the road before laughing. "Ah forgot wha' Ah was going ta say."

Lovino rolls his eyes.

"Oh, yeah! Ah remember now. Ah hope yeh don't mind me asking, but… Why do yeh underestimate yerself, Lov? Because yeh are worth so much more than yeh fink."

Taken aback by the question, Lovino is stunned into silence before he finally stammers out, "I-It's a long story. You probably wouldn't even want to hear it anyway, bastard."

"But Ah want to. Ah want ta help, an' Ah know Ah can." Allistor urges, brows knitting together in seriousness. "If yeh let me."

"It's like… I _want _to trust you, but I don't know if I can…" Lovino quietly admits, staring at his hands. "God, I'm such a mess."

_Yeh could be my mess, _the redhead subconsciously thinks to himself.

Allistor frowns and looks at Lovino with concern. "Lov, Ah could _never _betray yer trust. Ah would _never _judge yeh. Maybe other people have, but tha's because they were too daft to look past wha's on th' outside. A-And even though we've only known each other for a short time, yeh mean a _lot _ta me, Lov. More than Ah ever expected yeh to."

"Yeah? W-Well… it's just— it's just so _hard_." Lovino swallows hard, his expression grim despite his reddening cheeks. "Last time I truly trusted someone was back in high school, during my sophomore year. His name was Julio. He was an Italian, like Feli and me, so when we first met as freshmen, I thought to myself, _grazie a Dio_, someone I can connect with. And so we did. If anything, I guess you could call Julio my ex-best friend. We used to be able to tell each other everything, but I guess he got fed up with all my complaining or something, because one day, he just suddenly snapped."

"_You know what you are?__" __Julio roars, shoving Lovino back before grabbing the collar of the Italian__'__s shirt and pulling him forward __'__til they were nose-to-nose. __"__You__'__re a damned brat. A damned, whiny brat that has _nothing_ to complain about, yet you still manage to find faults in _everything _around you! You have _no right _to complain when other people have it so much more fucking _worse _than you, and even then, they don__'__t complain! They don__'__t say shit! You know why? It__'__s because they have the fucking balls to suck it the fuck up. Even if life is _shit _for them, at least they find it in themselves to go on. Unlike _you_, all you do is fucking mope around even though you literally have _no problems at all_. You fucking ungrateful brat. There are others out there who have worked their entire goddamn lives, and yet, they haven__'__t earned the allowance you get in one fucking month. You are a waste of space. In fact? You__'__re better off _dead_. You won__'__t make it in the real world. And you know what? This godforsaken world would be _so much better off without you_.__"_

_And with that, Julio shoved Lovino back. Without a second thought, Lovino grabbed Julio's wrist, reared his fist back and punched him square in the face. Julio clutched his nose, screaming obscenities at the Italian, his hand soaked with blood._

_Though numb, Lovino managed to walk away without a single glance back._

_He never forgot what Julio said._

**_"You're better off dead."_**

"And we just had a falling out. I haven't seen him since. I think he dropped out or something." Lovino instinctively tightens his grip on the steering wheel, breathing growing more shallow. For fuck's sake. This shouldn't matter anymore. "I trust Bella, though. But there are just some things I don't want to burden anybody with the same way I probably burdened Julio."

Allistor suddenly pulls over to the side of the road. "Oh, Lov," he says, adjusting the gears. "Get out."

Hazel eyes widen in disbelief. "_What_?"

The redhead nods in insistence. "Get out. Let's switch."

And with that, he exits the car and opens the passenger door. Lovino looks him warily in confusion before he sits in the driver's seat. The Scot sits beside him, pulling his seatbelt on. "Yer seatbelt, Lov,"

Lovino puts on his seatbelt and stares at the redhead expectantly. "What the hell are we doing?"

Allistor smiles at him. "We're going on a joyride. Drive."

"_What_?"

The Scotsman shrugs. "It'll get yer mind off of fings. Now _please_, Lov, just start driving."

Lovino decides to leave it at that and slowly shakes his head in amusement. "I'm an Italian. You shouldn't have done that." He revs the engine as if to make his point before smoothly pulling out and driving down the road.

Allistor tightens his grip on the seat but laughs nonetheless.

The Italian unlocked his inner Speed Demon and sped down the highway, pushing the speed limits when there were cops on standby and the car's own limits when they weren't.

The joyride lasts well into the night, so by the time Lovino arrives at his apartment building, his hands are somewhat numb and tingly from all the driving. Allistor beams at him, "God, tha' was incredible."

Lovino couldn't help but smile back. "You think? It actually worked. You _successfully _cheered me up. Congratulations, bastard."

The Scot leans in close, so close Lovino could feel their breaths mingling together. He coyly smirks at the blushing Italian before whispering, "Glad Ah could be of help."

* * *

Monday rolled around again and brought a Spaniard with it. A Spaniard, no matter how hard he tried, couldn't exactly get past the older Vargas twin's adamantine walls.

"Good morning, Lovino!" He greets, already expecting a slew of insults.

"Yeah, morning to you too, asshole." Lovino mutters, no venom whatsoever in his tone. That was a first~! And he actually greeted him back! Amazing!

Wh-What if Antonio decided to apologise? Slowly choosing his words, he begins to speak. "I know we haven't had the best experiences together, but can we just start over? Please?"

Lovino chuckles, "Yeah, no."

Antonio frowns, perplexed. "S-So is that a yes or a no—"

"No." And Lovino laughs, and it's the most beautiful sound Antonio has ever heard. The Spaniard finds himself short of breath being in the older Vargas brother's presence.

That was when Antonio _finally _realised his interest in Feliciano had long waned.

He had a (not-so) small crush on Lovi.

* * *

**Translations:**

_mon lapin _\- my bunny (Fr.)  
_mon ami _\- my friend (Fr.)  
_Gott _\- God (Dt.)  
_ja _\- yes (Dt.)  
_amigo _\- friend (Esp.)  
_adios _\- goodbye (Esp.)  
_adeus _\- goodbye (Pt.)  
_mi hermano _\- my brother (Esp.)  
_bonjour _\- hello (Fr.)  
_mes amis _\- my friends (Fr.)  
_Dio _\- God (It.)  
_tres magnifique _\- very magnificent (Fr.)  
_fick ja _\- fuck yeah (Dt.)  
_mein Freund _\- my friend (Dt.)  
_si _\- yes (It.)  
_ned _\- a hooligan (Scot.)  
_oui _\- yes (Fr.)  
_Dio mio _\- oh my God (It.)  
_buono notte _\- goodnight (It.)  
_fratello _\- brother (It.)  
_fratellone _\- older brother (It.)  
_grazie a Dio _\- thank God (It.)

**I just need to address something:**

**Garbage Queen: I apologise for the inaccurate description about getting high, as I've only the Internet and Ned Vizzini's _It__'__s a Funny Kind of Story _as the bases for my limited knowledge. There is a part in Vizzini's story where the main character, Craig, gets high for the first time and things started to visually distort.**

**Regarding Hungary— to each their own. I have many interpretations of her character, and this is only the characterisation she had for this particular story.**

**I should probably mention that Lovino's squad is loosely based on The Plastics from _Mean Girls_, a myriad of Tumblr posts, the Youtube show '_The Most Popular Girls In School_', as well as my own tight-knit group of friends.**

**Also, Hungary is a troll in this fic. (#umadbro)**

**Additionally, I do not 'fetishise' homosexual relationships, albeit the fact that this is a boyxboy story. Where is your basis for this statement, since you do not know me personally? If you cannot back up that statement with a credible truth, then that is akin a conclusion without a premise. A fallacy, or a faulty argument; specifically, ad hominem, or argument against the person.**

**So if my knowledge in philosophy is right, your argument is invalid.**

**If you wish to debase this story, please do so with at least some critique and suggestions on how I can correct the error of my ways, as well as credible proof.**

**Once again, to each their own. I know this story doesn't appeal to most readers, but at least it does to some. They are the ones that matter.**

**But I appreciate your _passionate _feedback. I doubt you'll be reading this story again anytime soon, but thank you for pointing out a flaw in Hungary's character for me. I'll be sure to keep that in mind.**

**Regards,**

**~jellydonut16~**

**P.S. Formalities aside…**

**Achievement unlocked!  
****They see me rollin', they hatin' Award.  
****• Unlock your first flame**

**Achievement unlocked!  
****This girl is on fire Award.  
****• Get a combo of 2 or more flames**

**Achievement unlocked!  
****Shots received Award  
****• Acknowledge flame/s**

**Achievement unlocked!  
****Shots fired Award  
****• Reply to flame/s**

**P.P.S. tAK E T HE IN T ER NET A W AY FR OM M E**

**Also, thank you guys for all the feedback! I really love hearing from you all. I hope I didn't disappoint you guys with this chapter. Sorry for such a late update. Please don't forget to review~!**


	16. sixteen

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

**_Kicking the Bucket List_**

**sixteen**

**"_And then it hits me:  
_****_you are smiling,  
_****_you are laughing,  
_****_you are happy_**

**_But it is not  
_****_because of me._"  
****—.**

Once the initial shock of realising that Antonio was interested in Lovino had worn off, he was somewhat confused to why. But he was happy nonetheless; his first class of the day was math with Lovino~. Maybe Lovi would talk to him this time, _si_? E-Even though he pretty much blew him off just now.

As Lovino brushed past him, the Spaniard didn't waste a single second and followed the Italian to class. Every so often, he would admire Lovi's butt through the fit of his maroon skinny jeans (_Do he got a booty? He dooooo~_). It was _so cute_~ Maybe it was squishy or something. It looked nice to squeeze in handfuls.

The older Vargas twin's tush aside, Toni wished he could just cuddle him 'til he was all cuddled out, but that was pretty much the equivalent of trying to hug a cactus. An _angry_ cactus~.

Wait, those are porcupines.

_Anyhow_~ Antonio jogged to keep up with the Italian's pace, barely paying Feliciano any heed the moment they parted to go to class. He felt like a lost puppy for some reason, and all he wanted was for Lovino to finally, _finally_ take notice of him and take him home. Which sounds oddly suggestive.

He cast a sideways glance at the Italian to his right. He was preoccupied with his phone again. Every few moments, his phone would ping and vibrate simultaneously as Lovino managed to avoid bumping into other people without glancing up from his phone.

Antonio wondered who Lovi was texting, and somehow, he felt a twinge of jealousy. If only Lovi could pay attention to him like that. Whoever he was talking to, Toni hoped they knew that they were really lucky people. The luckiest in the world. To be lavished with attention by Lovino would be like being noticed by a celebrity. It'd make them feel all special, and important, like they were the only people in the world that mattered, even if it were just for a little while.

A dejected sigh escaped the Spaniard's lips as he flopped down on the chair beside Lovi's, turning to look at him and admire his features. A tinge of red crossed his cheeks. Lovi is really, really handsome~! _Dios_, and his lips! His lips! They looked so soft and kissable and he just wanted to squeeze Lovi's cheeks and kiss the living daylights out of him~! He wondered what Lovino tasted like~

Emerald green eyes slowly trailed down from Lovino's face and to his slender neck, to the pronounced clavicles partially hidden within the confines of his black v-neck shirt, his creamy skin looking oh-so very enticing to kiss… to caress… to mark—

"Quit staring at me, bastard." Lovino growls out, clearly annoyed. Whoops~.

Antonio's face manages to redden even more, half-raising his hands up in an apologetic manner. "_L-Lo siento_, Lovi! I didn't mean to~"

The Italian scoffs in response. He didn't even bother to look up from his phone.

Did Antonio really mean that little to him..?

…D-Don't answer that, _por favor_.

Antonio scoots a little closer, not ready to leave him alone just yet. Okay. You can do this. "What the hell are you doing? Why are you _near_ me?" Lovino sneers, finally glancing up to scowl at the Spaniard.

"But Lovi~" Antonio whines, scooting even closer. Out of the frying pan and into the fire.

Lovino shoves him back, "No! Stay the hell away from me! You sketchy little _creep_!" He visibly shudders, already preparing the punch the living daylights out of Antonio. Thankfully, Toni catches the flying fist in time, as the Italian's other hand is clutching his phone. It pinged and vibrated again.

"_Siento_! Sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

The older Vargas twin yanks his fist out of the Spaniard's grasp, moving his chair far, far away from the other. "Shut up already, dick cheese."

Antonio sighed, moving back to his original spot. They sit in a tense and awkward silence until their professor finally comes in. Lovino momentarily glances up at the stocky teacher before hesitantly shoving his phone into his pocket after switching it to silent.

* * *

It's lunchtime right now, and the Bad Touch Trio is planning to have lunch with Feliciano, Ludwig, and Kiku. Antonio is in the Vargas brothers' apartment at the moment, however, waiting for Feli to finish making lunch for Lovi because 'he hasn't been eating much lately'. Upon meeting up, Feli had excused himself for about twenty minutes so he could make Lovi some lunch and drop it off at the Performing Arts Department. Antonio was quick to seize the opportunity to see Lovino again and volunteered to bring it to him instead.

"Ve~ You know what, Toni?" Feli starts, slicing tomatoes on a chopping board. "Lovi had a phase once."

Antonio raises an eyebrow at this. "'A phase'?"

A giggle escapes the Italian's lips. "_Si_, _si_! I think it was when we were about eleven years old. Lovi had a salami phase. He was _obsessed _with salami." Feliciano pulls out a roll of salami and mozzarella cheese from the fridge. "He would eat salami for breakfast, lunch, and dinner~! _Nonno_ didn't mind at first, but after a while, it became a serious problem~. Whenever Lovi didn't get to eat any salami, he would get really, really mad! So he found a way to make it himself using recipes he found on Google. It tasted amazing, though!"

The Spaniard couldn't help but laugh.

"Then when we had to move back to America, we sent him off to fat camp over the summer before school. So now, he's really skinny. Once he got back, though, he had this phase where every single thing in his closet came from Hot Topic~. Each time it comes up now and then, he always tells me, 'That was a dark time in my life, Feli. Now drop it.' So now he only wears clothes from, like, Marc Jacobs or Control Sector. He really, really likes Armani, though. But some of his shirts from Hot Topic were really nice~! And so soft~

"Ve~ So instead of getting Lovi obsessed with salami, he got obsessed with tomatoes instead! He still loves tomatoes as much as he did then, if not more~ Sometimes, he makes himself caprese when he's feeling sad."

"Aww~" Antonio can't help but blurt out. "That's so _cute_! So Lovi likes tomatoes, _si_? Maybe I should give him some as a peace offering. Would that be a good idea?" He cups his own cheeks. "And he makes caprese when he gets sad. _Dios mio_, that's adorable. But what does he get sad about?"

The younger Vargas twin's expression grows sombre as he starts to wrap the hoagie up in waxed paper. "Um… I don't know, really. I just know that he does." He taps the side of his forehead twice. "Twin's intuition!"

A lovelorn sigh escapes the Spaniard's lips. "Lovi's too cute to get sad."

Feli smiles up at him. "Ve~ You like _fratello_, don't you? You _like_ like him."

"Ah~" Toni sheepishly smiles and scratches the back of his head. "I _think_ I do. I don't know why I've never noticed it before… But Lovi won't give me the time of day! He hates me."

"Ve~ Lovi is bound to get over it _some_how~! Maybe you can start today, with the sandwich!"

"_Si_, and maybe I can— maybe I can give him, like, a basket of tomatoes too! With a note~! And churros~!"

"Are you going to woo him?"

"Ah, I plan to~!"

"Ooh~ That's great! It's about time _fratello_'s found someone~! But just remember this, Toni~" Feliciano leans in, the smile ever-present on his face never wavering. "If you break _mio fratello_'s heart, I'll break your neck. Capisce?"

Antonio's blood runs cold in response to Feliciano's chilling tone and promise of future bodily harm. "F-Feli?" He stammers out, mortified emerald green eyes meeting steely chocolate brown ones. He steps back in shock. "O-Of course not! I would never hurt him!"

"Wonderful! Here you are~!" Without skipping a beat, Feliciano raises up the neatly-wrapped sub up to Antonio. The Spaniard, though overwhelmed, manages a terse nod before taking it from Feliciano's hands.

"I, uh… _Gracias_. I'll make s-sure he gets it…"

Feli's already begun cleaning up the area. "See you at the diner~!"

Antonio slowly nods. "Right! Ahahaha~" And with that, he quickly exits the apartment and briskly walks back to campus.

* * *

The Performing Arts Department of the Evergreen Hollows University was tucked to one side of the lush, green campus. It was right beside the Art Department, all types of people bustling in and out of the buildings. The department itself was a building located in between the Theatre of Performing Arts and the campus' own local art exhibit, The Lennox Collection of Magna Opera.

Antonio glanced up at the stately building and felt like he was in another world, or at least in an entirely different campus. So _this _is where Lovi belongs.

Maybe the Italian really was untouchable. Maybe Antonio would never be good enough to reach the level of someone as creative and wonderful as him.

The thought saddened him, but he didn't let that get him down. He was going to see Lovino! He had an actual reason to see him! Next time, he should bring Lovino some tomatoes~!

The department teemed with different types of people, some wearing ensembles that reminded him of Lady Gaga and others that wear clothes that would've probably had Francis raving nonstop. Several of them eyed him with either mild interest or distaste.

Antonio avoided looking at them and instead focussed on finding the right room Lovi was in. The building had several small theatres meant for minor productions, whilst the crème de la crème or the final presentations would take place in the Theatre of Performing Arts. He glanced down at the smudged number four on his hand. Theatre four…

He walked down the hall a bit more before he stopped in front of a pair of doors. A little gold plaque beside it had a '**4**' engraved into it. He considered knocking, but opted to push the doors open instead. EHU definitely didn't scrimp when it came to their illustrious Performing Arts Academy, that was for sure. He briefly gawked at the theatre as big as a warehouse, from the plush seats to the heavy red curtains that hang above the large stage. People were rushing about, barely paying him any heed. He stepped in, feeling like a fish out of water. Everything seemed so otherworldly.

"Excuse me…" he speaks up to a girl, only to have her brush past him. M-Maybe she didn't hear him. Let's try someone else.

"Hi, I'm—" he tries again, to a guy carrying coils and coils of thick black wires, only he didn't notice Antonio either. Never until now did Antonio feel so small. It's not that he was used to being in the centre of attention or anything, but he was usually never not noticed. He didn't usually fly under the radar here in EHU, so this was kind of a new thing for him.

He bites his lip, feeling embarrassed and sheepish at the same time. He opts to find Lovino himself. As he walks down the aisle, he sees the actors and actresses sitting in a circle onstage. The ones in the scene were already reading out their lines, a familiar redhead occasionally correcting them and their intonations. W-What was his name again? Al… Al something.

The Spaniard walks up to the stage. "Hi!"

Some of the actors stare at him blankly. Antonio points at the redhead, and one of the girls speak up. "Allistor, behind you."

Allistor stops and turns to face Antonio. He smiles. "Hi! Antonio, righ'?" He makes his way down the side of the stage.

A sheepish laugh escapes the brunette's lips. "_Si_, _si_! We met the other day!"

"Righ', righ'! Well, wha' can Ah do for yeh? Francis isn't here, Ah'm afraid."

"No, no, it's alright~ I was just wondering if you know Lovino Vargas?"

The Scotsman smiles. "'Course Ah do! Are yeh lookin' for 'im?"

"I am~! His brother asked me to give him his lunch."

Allistor nods. "Ah'll take yeh to 'im. Lov's working on th' props backstage wif th' others."

They walk up the steps to the stage and the Spaniard is led to the even more chaotic backstage.

"'Lov'?" Antonio echoes, confused.

There's this indefinite, vague twinkle in Allistor's forest green eyes. "Yep! Tha's me nickname for 'im."

Antonio swallows loudly, trying to ignore the pang of jealousy in his heart. Instead, he fakes a laugh. "Ahahaha~ And he doesn't mind when you call him that?"

"Not at all." And that's when Antonio sees him. He sees him the same time Allistor does, and when Allistor calls out his name, Lovino is quick to face the speaker, face flushed. A small smile graces the Italian's lips.

"Yeh 'ave a visitor," the redhead says, pointing at the Spaniard standing behind him with his thumb. The Spaniard's heartbeat sped up as his face began to redden.

"Hi, Lovi!"

Lovino stares at him blankly, all the light in his eyes dying a sudden death. "What're you doing here?"

Antonio bites his bottom lip before laughing, handing the hoagie over to Lovi. "Special delivery~! It's a sub from Feli. He thinks you haven't been eating much."

The Italian eyes the sandwich warily, as if Antonio may have poisoned it. He reaches out for it and takes it from the Spaniard's hands, the tips of Lovino's fingers brushing over Antonio's own.

"_Grazie_," he mutters, quickly glancing at Allistor.

"Yeh 'aven't been eating well lately, Lov?" Allistor asks, eyeing Lovino with concern before his expression grows playful. "Want me ta make yeh some haggis? Ah'll cook yeh a nice tuck-in!"

The Italian laughs, shoving the Scot back. "Hell no! Fuck your haggis."

Antonio inhales sharply, his fists clenching. He was overcome with jealousy, and he felt bad, because Allistor was a nice person, and you can't be jealous of nice people. That's bad. Really, really bad. They must be _really_ good friends.

"Oh, come on! It's not tha' bad, innit? Yeh never know 'til yeh try, Lov."

Lovino shudders at the thought of haggis. "I don't get why you like it so much."

"Tha's why yeh should try it!"

"_Over my dead body_!"

Allistor pouts at him. "Aw, Lov. Don't talk like tha'."

The Italian flushes a bright red, biting his bottom lip and glancing down at his feet. "Whatever, bastard."

Then they all stand in silence for a few seconds, finally remembering that Antonio was with them. "Well, then!" Allistor starts, turning to Antonio.

Antonio can't help but find the smile mocking. He wanted to punch it off of Allistor's face— _no_, Antonio Fernandez-Carreido, that is _not right_! Mama raised you better than this!

"Shall Ah walk yeh out?" Aliistor asks. He seemed so kind and nice and genuine, which made Antonio feel even worse for wanting to punch Allistor for being so _close _to Lovino like that.

The Spaniard forces a wry smile on his face. "Ah, it's no problem. I know my way out."

He leaves the two to their own devices, weaving his way through the many people backstage. It hurt that he didn't matter all that much to Lovino. It really, really did. And— And seeing someone _that _close to Lovino, closer than Antonio would ever be, just made him feel really frustrated and angry! How does he get from where he is right now, to where Allistor is at?

He stares at his hand as he exits the theatre.

Antonio still remembers the way Lovino's fingertips felt on his skin.

* * *

"Franny? Gil? There's something I have to tell you," Antonio says later that night, when they've just come home from a gastropub. He seats them down on the black leather couch, sitting in the white armchair adjacent to them. "I'm interested in someone else now. And believe it or not, it's Lovino. Feli's brother."

There were a billion things Antonio expected from them— an outburst, protests, admonishments?— but silence was definitely not one of them. The trio sat in an awkward silence as the two processed this. But what Antonio didn't know was that the other two had already known this, and realised this sooner than Antonio himself. Gilbert and Francis sigh and look at each other.

They seem disappointed.

That is not good.

Francis slowly shakes his head. "_Cher_, I think it's best if you try and find someone else."

"But _why_?" Antonio whines. Then he thinks of Allistor and Lovino, laughing and smiling together, but he wants to know why else anyway.

"Dude," Gilbert deadpans. "The guy _hates_ you. _Mein Gott_, why do you even like him?"

Antonio would've said 'You don't know that for sure!' but they _all _know that that's not true, and they all know that Lovino would rather punch himself in the face than be around Antonio. Which is sad, because Toni _really_, really likes him. Lovino just has to _realise _that Antonio has no vendetta against him, and that he wants them to be friends, _si_? And over time, they can be _more _than friends! Right? Crestfallen, he glances down at his hands before shaking his head resolutely.

"I don't know, but I'm going to find out~!" He's _not _going to give up just yet! He can't! Not when he's finally seen Lovino; gorgeous, irritable Lovino in a different light. "And I won't let that stop me, no. I'm going to _try_. Lovino's worth it— I just know it!"

And with that, he gets up from the armchair and grabs his wallet and jacket. "You're not going to his house now, are you?" Francis says, getting up as well lest Antoine do something irrational. Like _wooing _the other Vargas twin, for example.

"Nope," the Spaniard says, grinning at them. "I'm gonna buy tomatoes for _mi tomate_~!"

* * *

The next morning, Antonio was in front of the Vargas brothers' apartment again. Oddly enough, only Feli exited the apartment complex. Toni clutched the small basket of tomatoes in his hands a bit tighter, glancing over Feliciano's shoulder to see if the older Vargas was following him out of the building.

"Ve~ _Buon giorno_, Toni!" Feliciano greets, momentarily following Antonio's line of sight before going 'Oh~!' in realisation. "If you're looking for _fratello_, he's not here. He left earlier this morning." Then, he glances down at the basket of tomatoes in Antonio's hands. "Was that for him? How cute~!"

So the two began their five-minute walk to campus. Several weeks ago, Antonio would've _killed_— o-or temporarily subdue, rather—for this opportunity. He would have temporarily subdued Lovino for this, a chance to get to talk to Feliciano one-on-one.

And now, here it was, when all he wanted to do was see Lovino's face again. _Dios_, he could stare at Lovino's face all day. He was handsome, so very handsome indeed.

As they passed through the local Starbucks on the way to campus, perchance, Antonio glanced into the coffee shop. His heart dropped to the bottom of his chest. Allistor and Lovino were having breakfast together, laughing over something the latter said.

Antonio felt sad, and angry, and anguished, and jealous all at once. The green-eyed monster was looming over his shoulder once again, taunting him.

It was a cruel coincidence rigged by fate that Lovino turned at that exact moment and saw Antonio with Feliciano. If he was angry (which he probably was), he did an excellent job of concealing it from the redhead in front of him.

Lovino merely faked a smile and turned to the Scotsman again, his expression turning more and more genuine with every second that passed.

It was terrible.

Antonio couldn't pull his eyes away from both of them, _being _together. Lovino looked at Allistor the same way Antonio wanted Lovino to look at him.

* * *

After Lovino's Creative Writing class, he felt relatively satisfied with the several snippets of ideas and plots he'd conceived over the weekend. That movie marathon with Feli helped. He made his way out of the classroom as he slung his backpack over his shoulders after everyone else had left the room.

Not even one step outside of the classroom, he stopped dead in his tracks upon seeing Antonio. The Spaniard got down on one knee in front of him, raising a basket of— of tomatoes? up to him.

"Lovi, please accept my apology!" Antonio cried out.

What the actual fuck?

"And— And I'm sorry I punched you in the face! Even though you punched me first!"

Lovino finally took notice of his surroundings, hazel eyes frantically darting about, taking in the amused expressions of his peers as they whispered to each other. _Dio mio._

"Shut up!" Lovino hissed, only for Antonio to yell even louder.

"_Lo siento_! Please accept my peace offering!"

"Gimme that—" The Italian yanked the basket out of the Spaniard's grasp, prompting the latter to lose his balance and tumble down to the former's feet.

_I__'__m falling head over heels for you! _Antonio wanted to say, but he couldn't, as Lovino muffled his mouth and repetitiously told him to '_shut the fuck up before I do it myself_'.

_Ooh~ Do it with a kiss~! _The Spaniard couldn't help but think, trying to get up.

To his surprise, Lovino helped him up before dragging him off somewhere by the collar of his shirt. Antonio needn't be told twice to follow him. Suggestive jeers fuelled the Italian's rage and disbelief.

"Where are we going—"

Lovino shoved him into a nook in between the lockers, running a hand through his hair. He started to gesticulate, hazel eyes frantic and confused and just 1000% **done**. Finally, he starts to speak. "What the _hell are you doing_?!" He raises the basket of tomatoes up, pointing to it. "This! What the fuck is this?!"

Antonio knit his brows together before laughing. "It's a basket of tomatoes, Lovi~!"

Lovi looks at him in exasperation. "No fucking _shit_." He turns his gaze to the basket, looking at all the… different… types of tomatoes in it— what the hell, a can of peas?

He raises it up out of the basket and Antonio giggles. It had a yellow Post-It note on it that read '**PEAS** **OFFERING**'.

"Pffft—" Lovino snorts, covering his mouth with his forearm so he could stifle a laugh. Still, his body shook with mirth.

The Spaniard beams at him, proud with himself at being able to make Lovi laugh— and for a second time~! He was getting good at this, _si_? "It's funny, right?"

Sadly, the older Vargas twin finally got a hold of himself, taking a deep breath and trying to wipe the look of amusement off his face before putting the can back into the basket. He resolutely clears his throat, face flushing in embarrassment.

"Apology accepted?"

Lovino turns away from him. He facepalms himself. "Yeah, I accept your stupid apology. Bastard."

"Yay~!" Antonio couldn't help but hug Lovino from behind, inwardly cursing the backpack that came in between them. _Dios mio_, he was so thin! Maybe Feli was right— maybe Lovi hadn't been eating much! But at the same time, he was _so _soft and warm~ What he would give to feel Lovi's body pressed flush against his…

"Don't touch me!" Lovino growls out, prying the stupid Spaniard's arms off of him.

Antonio complies, adroitly avoiding the Italian's elbows. Without a glance back, Lovino starts to make his way down the hallway, eyes trained on his black Vans. Antonio walks after him anyway.

"Stop following me." Lovi says. Then, in a more hushed tone, "How did you know?"

"Know what?" Antonio asks, wholly confused.

"That I like tomatoes. Who _told _you? Feliciano?"

Antonio smiles. "_Si_~! What're you having for lunch?"

Lovino stays silent for a few seconds before shakes his head. "I don't… I dunno. Whatever. You can leave me alone now, I accepted your fucking," he takes another glance at the basket in his hand. "…peace offering."

The Spaniard couldn't tear his eyes off of Lovino, not even once. He was completely enamoured with him. His mouth ran dry just looking at him, _Dios_, he was drop-dead gorgeous. But he didn't want to leave, not yet! Not when they've gained some semblance of reconciliation!

Something akin a whimper escaped his lips. "But Lovi~ At least let me take you to lunch, _si_? I'll pay. Peace offering 2.0."

"FY-fucking-I, I am _perfectly _capable of buying my own lunch, bastard."

"Yes, yes, but that doesn't mean you _have _to~!"

"Thanks, but no thanks. _Per l__'__amore di Dio_, just… _leave _me the fuck alone." And with that, Lovino briskly walks off, leaving a rejected Antonio in the dust. But then, he stops dead in his tracks, as if hesitating. He turns to Antonio, glaring at him and raising the basket up to eye-level. "Giving me _this _does _not _mean you can hit on my brother. Stay away from him. I saw you two together again this morning. But since I'm _such _a nice person? I'm gonna turn the other cheek and let it slide."

And Toni just grins, his heart skipping a beat. "I can live with that."

Lovino points a finger at him, eyes squinted. "Seriously. Stay _away _from him."

"_Si_, _si_! Of course~!"

Then Lovi walks away without another word, without a single glance back.

* * *

**Translations:**

_si _\- yes (It./Esp.)  
_Dios _\- God (Esp.)  
_lo siento _\- I'm sorry (Esp.)  
_por favor _\- please (Esp.)  
_siento _\- sorry (Esp.)  
_nonno _\- grandfather (It.)  
_Dios mio _\- oh my God (Esp.)  
_fratello _\- brother (It.)  
_mio fratello _\- my brother (It.)  
_gracias _\- thank you (Esp.)  
_grazie _\- thank you (It.)  
_cher _\- dear (Fr.)  
_mein Gott _\- oh my God (Dt.)  
_mi tomate _\- my tomato (Esp.)  
_buon giorno _\- good morning (It.)  
_Dio mio _\- oh my God (It.)  
_per l__'__amore di Dio _\- for the love of God (It.)

**And pseudo-pervert!Toni finally comes out~**

**Woo-hoo! 150 reviews~! To celebrate, I'll totes write a one shot fot the 175th reviewer :D Just make sure I can contact you so you can give me your prompt~. That'd be fun. I see lots of stuff about kink memes, but I don't really understand how anons get them, let alone how they work /is a n00b OTL**

**I have a lot of time on my hands now since it's summer, so I can write loads and maybe keep up the pace of a weekly update.**

**Review, _por favor_~!**

**~jellydonut16~**

**P.S. I'm so lame I keep on laughing at the 'PEAS OFFERING' pun am I funny or whAT HAHAHAHA**

**And, _yes_, Lovino had an emo phase in this fic. Or at least a scene phase (which can justify the skinny jeans). And a fat camp phase. And a salami phase.**

**P.P.P.S. What do you think of the love triangle so far? :D**


	17. seventeen

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

**_Kicking the Bucket List_**

**seventeen**

**"_You make me so hot  
_****_Make me wanna drop  
_****_It__'__s so ridiculous  
_****_I can barely stop  
_****_I can hardly breathe  
_****_You make me wanna scream  
_****_You__'__re so fabulous  
_****_You__'__re so good to me_"  
****— _Hot _by Avril Lavigne**

"Lovi~! I got your lunch~!" Antonio jovially sings out, raising the Tupperware box of marinara pasta up for the twin to see. To be honest, he _loved _bringing Lovi his food everyday. It made him feel like they were actually _together_, and he was a doting lover, living the domestic life and bringing him lunch~.

"You don't _have _to do this, you know," the aforementioned Italian grumbles, momentarily glancing up from one of the props he was working on and taking the pasta anyway. Antonio is quick to make sure the tips of Lovino's nimble fingers brush over his hand. He feels all giddy inside. Every single touch sends his stomach lurching, his heart racing, and his body yearning for more.

"I know~!" The Spaniard chirps, beaming at the older Vargas brother.

Lovino cocks a single eyebrow up. "So why do you keep on doing it anyway?" He asks, setting the plastic box down beside him.

Antonio doesn't even have to think twice. "Because I want to!"

"But _why_?" The Italian presses on. "It's not like you're getting paid or anything, dammit—"

_But getting to see you is reward enough~! _Antonio's mind supplies. Instead, he smiles. "Because I want to get to know you, Lovi~."

"Yeah, but I don't," Lovino mumbles under his breath, but Antonio doesn't seem to hear.

And once again, they've fallen into this— this _new _routine, in addition to the old one, where Antonio would bring him lunch everyday. Lovino's tried getting Feliciano to stop making him food lest the stupid Spaniard get his dirty mitts on his brother's virginity, but to no avail.

Instead, he was lectured on how skipping meals was detrimental to a healthy diet, and how he should start eating healthy. By Feliciano, no less. _Feliciano_, who practically inhales pasta like it's _oxygen_. Feliciano, who eats a bar of chocolate a day, thanks to that bastard of a Spaniard's f-fucking Love Offerings. Ugh. Disgusting.

And Lovino found the lecture kinda insulting, to be honest. It wasn't like he was even on an actual _diet _or anything; he didn't _mean _to skip meals, dammit— it just kinda… slipped his mind a lot! Plus, he's been to freaking _Fat Camp_, for fuck's sake. He _knows _dieting. Real, gruesome, _extreme _actual hardcore dieting (Salami rehab, anyone?).

He's tried different diets for something that'd really work for him, and wound up drowning in carbs—'_The Potato Diet_', Jesus Christ— so he could burn all that energy by playing football and doing the Insanity Workout. _Dio_, in _his _opinion? He's had enough potatoes for one lifetime. The only food he could ever eat with potato as the main constituent would definitely be gnocchi (and the occasional binge eating session on french fries from Mickey D's or Burger King, but _only _when he was really drunk). Goddamn.

And if one thing's for sure, he _never _wants to go through that agonising process ever again.

_Ever._

But anyways, whenever Antonio was around, trying to 'befriend' him, he couldn't help but grow a little more wary and suspicious of the Spaniard. Like _hell _Antonio wanted to be 'friends' with him. No one in their right mind would ever, _ever _want to befriend someone that has openly vituperated them time and time _and time again_. Even the _nicest _of people daren't do that. Let alone someone they've been in a (_very public_) brawl with. There was just something… _two-faced _about it. Like everything the Spaniard has ever done was all a façade, or had a sketchy ulterior motive.

Whatever motive the Spaniard has, Lovino could tell something was up. Something dubious. He calls bullshit on _each and every _single act of kindness Antonio has ever shown him. W-Well, save for that fucking "_PEAS OFFERING_" last week. And no matter _what_ the bastard was up to, Lovino was pretty sure it had something— _something_— to do with Feliciano.

After all, it wasn't the first time someone's been nice to him just to get closer to Feli. It was terrible. There is _no way in hell _he'll ever let _that _happen again.

By the time Lovino realises he'd abruptly spaced out, Antonio was busy animatedly waving his hand in front of his face. Instinctively, his hand smacks Antonio's hand away like a cobra lashing out at its prey. He glares at the Spaniard. The latter is undeterred by the sharp look, coruscation of pure admiration evident in his emerald green eyes. Evident to everyone except Lovino, that is.

"Stop it." Lovino snaps, his lips curling down into his oft-worn scowl. "Asshole."

Antonio smiles at him. "What were you thinking about, Lovi?"

The Italian narrows his eyes even more. "Wouldn't you like to know, huh, bastard?"

A dreamy look crosses Antonio's face as he beams at the Italian. "Ooh~ Were you thinking about …_me_?"

Almost immediately, a deep red blush crosses his cheeks out of both frustration and embarrassment. _Yes_, he was thinking about the bastard, but not like _that_, dammit!

"S-Shut up!" He growls out, punching Antonio's arm. To his surprise however, the Spaniard took it in jest.

Antonio laughed. "Oh, Lovi, you're so _cute_~!"

Lovino was not amused. Instead of replying, he opted to return his attention to the neglected prop that needed repainting, muttering a string of expletives under his breath. All the while, he was trying to regulate his breathing; trying to resist the urge to punch a _certain Spaniard dead in the fucking face and curling his fingers around the bastard__'__s throat, squeeze **squeeze **_**_squeezing_**_ the life out of the bag of shit who only probably wanted to use him to get to Feliciano__—_

Not surprisingly, Lovino got re-pissed about everything that had ever transpired between him and the Spaniard he was now growing increasingly hostile to with each and every second that passed. He was just mercurial like that. Wonderful~.

The Vargas twin draws and releases a long, _exasperated _breath, _already irritated _with Antonio's very existence. Just as he opened his mouth to spew forth a few scathing comments (the bastard's probably too stupid to understand them, anyway), he caught sight of perfection personified in the corner of his eye and forced himself to remain… c-_calm_. Yes. Calm. Very calm. No throttling the Spaniard. Not in front of Allistor, at least.

"'Ello, Lov; Antonio." The redhead says, walking over to them.

Antonio goes rigid upon hearing the very voice he'd grown to dislike, turning to face the redhead with a wry smile. "Hello~."

"Bringing Lov his lunch again, Ah see," the Scotsman comments, clearly amused.

Lovino's cheeks burn with embarrassment as he glowers the prop. "It's not like I'm a _kid _or anything, d-dammit—" he says. "I told Feli to stop, and yet he still makes lunch for me anyway."

Antonio internally smirked at that. Feli _had _mentioned that to him one day, yes, but it was upon Antonio's _insistence _that the younger Vargas continue anyway~. At least… until Lovi would actually give him a chance and _talk_ to him, that is.

But with Allistor in the picture, things weren't looking so dandy at the moment. Or today, for that matter.

But it's fine. It's fine!

Really~!

Just as long as the Scotsman goes about his business far, _far _away from Lovino, everything will be _okay_.

* * *

"Will you look at that," Elizabeta mumbles, staring at the Italian, the Scotsman and the Spaniard. "That other dude is _totally_ getting in the way of my OTP. They could've been, like, making out _right now_, but they can't because of— of…"

She makes a vague hand gesture towards the brunette.

"His name is Antonio, Liz," Bella says, frowning at the Spaniard who loomed over Lovi like a shadow. Then she pouts, turning to Elizabeta. "And I doubt that Lovi and Allistor would be making out _here _of all places, anyway. They haven't even held hands yet."

She reaches into the carton box of costumes that just came in and pulled one of the plastic-covered gowns for the female lead, a sigh of admiration escaping her lips. "Oh, wow. This dress is _gorgeous_," she gushes, ripping it out of its plastic cocoon and raising it up to eye-level to continue fawning over the delicate satiny dress the colour of rich crimson, running the tips of her fingers over the sequinned and embroidered bodice. She presses the slinky dress close to her ample bosom, a toned thigh peeking out from one of the long slits that trailed up one side.

"This dress is so Jessica Rabbit, I swear." She continues, gazing at it longingly. "I wanna get married in it. Like, in those Vegas chapels, with one of those Elvis Presley impersonators doing the ceremony. Then we get divorced in, like, a week. This is that type of dress."

"Well, you'll have to find your future ex-husband first." Liz says, finally prying her eyes off of Allistor and Lovino, the Spaniard having left. She fans herself hotly. "It's painful watching them. Everyone _knows _they like each other but themselves. I can _feel_ the unresolved sexual tension from across the room."

"Skinny love." Then blond makes a face. "But you always feel unresolved sexual tension when it comes to your OTPs."

"No, this one is different!" The Hungarian argues. "Can't you see? They really, really _like _each other! Hell, they may even _love _each other. But they're too scared to make a move and ruin what they have!"

"Oh, come on. Maybe they just need more time," Bella says, setting the gown back in the box before lifting it up to the dressing room. "Work things out."

Elizabeta is hot on her heels, trying to get the blond to just— to just _understand _that something needed to be done. And fast! "Or _maybe_, we just need to give them a hand! Look at them! They're smitten! We need to do this! Hell, it's practically our _duty_ since we're Lovino's friends!"

"Oh, Liz," the Belgian starts, grabbing a satin cloth hanger and hanging the crimson gown on it to be steam ironed later.

"Come _on_, Bel. We just need to give them one little push, is all! Don't you want Lovino to be _happy_?" Elizabeta's olive green eyes land on the dress. "Oh my God, it _is _pretty."

Then she smirks. "I have an idea~"

"Liz, no—"

"Liz, _yes_! Just— Just hear me out!"

And so, the girls began to connive in hushed whispers, even in an empty room. With what Elizabeta had in mind, it was better off it stayed that way.

By the time lunch had come to an end, they got Feliks and Michelle in on it too.

* * *

Antonio jogged down the steps of the Performing Arts Department building, his expression distressed and the muscles along his neck drawn taut in worry. He felt so helpless in a way. He didn't know whatto do. He didn't know how to _woo _Lovi, when just _talking_ to him had proven difficult enough.

A-And the thing that takes the cake is that even though he would normally have a pick-up line, or a great conversation starter in mind before he talks to Lovi, scenarios of their would-be conversation running rampant through his mind, all of that just _goes away _the moment he sees the Italian. Like, completely away. His mind becomes even blanker than usual.

So all those pick-up lines (_ravioli, ravioli~ let me be your one and only~_)?

All those _great _conversation starters (_I love tomatoes~_)?

Yep~! Gone~. All gone.

A sigh escaped his lips. "Why am I such an idiot?" He groans out, coming to a halt and pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes.

"I find myself asking that same question all the time." A familiar voice says from behind him.

Antonio gulps, turning to face one of his exes. The first one he had the moment he started classes in Evergreen Hollows University, actually.

"Roderich. Hi."

The piano virtuoso raises an eyebrow at the Spaniard, expression wary.

Antonio offers his ex a sheepish grin (grimace). "Heh. I haven't seen you in a while. You've been pretty busy, huh?"

"No more than you've been." The Austrian says indifferently, shifting the black portfolio tucked under one arm to the other. "I suppose what differs is how I've spent my time and you with yours."

"I guess?" Antonio supplies awkwardly. To say that he wasn't on good terms with Roderich (or _any _of his exes, for that matter…) would be an understatement.

"I best get going now. You've taken up far too much of my time. Again." Roderich says, frowning in distaste as he glances down at his watch. And with that, the pianist Antonio once loved walked away without another word.

But never mind that.

Because _right now_, Antonio needed a way to get to talk to Lovi again.

Maybe he could ask Feli— _no_, he _needs _to do this on his own! How can he win Lovino's heart if he keeps on depending on Feliciano's sandwiches to bridge the gap between them? Antonio didn't want their future relationship to be built on ciabatta and focaccia bread! But maybe…

Maybe it could be built on tomatoes..?

Ah, well, at _least_ until Antonio's gotten to know Lovino better.

The brunette's spirits renewed, he decides to get Lovi some tomatoes from the market near his apartment after class and maybe… he could walk Lovi home, right?

Antonio is giddy with excitement at the mere thought, wondering what Lovino's hands would feel like in his.

* * *

It's time for practise after class hours. Bella and the squad were now in the dressing room, busying themselves with generally tidying up the area in preparation for more of the costumes and worn props.

"Lovi~! Lovi, look!" The Belgian says, motioning to a crimson dress with the nozzle of her steam iron. "Isn't this dress absolutely _gorgeous_?"

The Italian glances up from his job of untangling the many old plated gold chains in a small box and stares at the dress. "Yeah. I guess."

She tugs the dress off the rack and walks over to him. "Look at the embroidery. It's really pretty."

He sets the tangled ball of tarnished gold down, taking a closer look-see at the handiwork. "It's nice." The Italian concurs. "Chances are, it's handwoven. Must've cost a lot to have a dress like this finished this quickly. Everyone here is always in such a rush."

Bella casts a quick glance at Michelle and Feliks over the Italian's shoulder. The two immediately walk out as Elizabeta lingers near the door, taking slow, languid steps.

"Lovi?" She asks, in that coy tone that usually got him to do lots of stuff for her. He glances up from the dress and their eyes meet.

His expression screams: _OH SHIT, WHAT NOW_

She tilts her head to the side slightly, ghosting her fingers along the line of his shoulders. Her gaze follows her fingertips. "I _really_ need your help."

Bella's read this online before. Apparently, if you ask someone for help instead of requesting a favour, chances are, they'll oblige. Ho-hey manipulation~!

"Wh-what, dammit?" He asks, but his voice is strained.

The Belgian slowly glances up at him, an almost _sultry _pout on her lips. He gulps.

_Shit, _Lovino can't help but think. _This must be some Super Huge Favour or something, goddammit__—_

"You know what I would _really _love for you to do?" She says, a mischievous glint in her eye.

More intimidating silence continues as she runs her fingers down his chest, prompting him to shiver.

"_Tell _me already then, dammit!" Lovino demands, lest he begins to asphyxiate out of sheer suspense. "What do you want from me?!"

She raises the hanger up, turning her pout on full blast. This was really abusing her power and influence over him to its limits. She is going to push the envelope.

"Please, Lovi?"

His jaw goes slack in mortification, eyes widening to saucer-like proportions. Was she serious?! "Oh, _hell _no—"

And it was at that moment where Elizabeta locked the door behind her.

* * *

Bella pushed the envelope.

* * *

"Hi, Lovi, I brought you some tomatoes~!" Antonio says to himself, inspecting each and every one of the red fruit before setting the really nice ones into a plastic bag in the basket to be weighed. "I know we just saw each other during lunch, but I decided to drop by and give you some tomatoes— no, wait. I already said that!"

A sigh escapes his lips. Why did this have to be so difficult? He clears his throat and tries again. "Hi, Lovi~! I know we just saw each other during— during lunch, but I decided to, um, to give you some tomatoes and stop by~"

He works it out a few more times as he heads for the checkout counter. Once he's got the tomatoes, he stares up at the road, knowing that Evergreen Hollows University would be at the very end. It was quite a long way back, since the organic market and deli was a bit farther than his own apartment.

Hopefully, Lovi will like it though~!

And so, the Spaniard began to make his way back to the campus.

* * *

"I cannot believe you two," Lovino says, glaring at the Hungarian and the Belgian. He points a finger at Elizabeta. "God, you— you fucking _corrupted _her with your evil mind! You've _tainted _her with your bat-shit crazy ideas!"

Eliza opens the door behind her and steps out, grinning. "Well, you're wearing it now, aren't you?"

"Be careful with that," Bella has the audacity to say, looking at him sheepishly.

"'Be careful' my ass! I'm dressed in drag!"

She winces. "Sorry, Lovi~ Really! It's for the best!"

"No," Lovino argues, "It's _not _for the best! Liz gets off of this kinda stuff. I'm probably satisfying some of her sick homosexual fantasies right fucking _now_. God, Bella. You are so naïve."

He slams his hands on the dressing table and glares at his reflection in the mirror lit up by lightbulbs, shuddering in disgust. "Ugh, look at me. I'm as gay as Feliks now. There's no turning back."

"You have nice legs though." She comments, stepping back near the door. It's true~! He _does _have really nice legs, albeit all his gangling about.

He gawks at her via reflection in the mirror. "Shut up. This— This is _not okay_. This is _so _not okay."

* * *

"Allistor!" Michelle says, tugging at his sleeve as he intently watched the actors and actresses going over their lines.

He does a double take; then he finally turns to face her and Feliks. "Yes?"

"You— You _have _to go to the dressing room. _Right now_." She urges, expression grave.

His face scrunches up in confusion. "Wha'? Why? Ah'm not in charge of th' costumes—"

Feliks rolls his eyes before tersely shaking the Scotsman's shoulder. "It's Lovino. He needs your help _right now_."

'Lovino' was obviously the keyword, since Allistor's eyes immediately widened in alarm. "Oh, God. Wha' happened? Is he alright? Is he hurt?"

He takes long strides towards the dressing room, passing a grinning Elizabeta, who flashed him a thumbs up. He scrunches his brows together as he hurries to the room, his shoulder narrowly missing the rack of fuscous lumpen-proletariat clothing for the minor roles.

He has to stand aside by the doorway as Bella scurries out, nervously glancing up at him before following Elizabeta down the hall.

"We'll leave you two alone," the Hungarian suggestively coos, waggling her eyebrows.

The redhead stands at the doorway, eyeing a familiar brunette's back, wearing… wearing a dress?

"Lov?" He says softly, taking a few steps into the room, and the Italian flinches.

"_What are you doing here?!_" Lovino shrieks in mortification, deftly avoiding meeting the Scot's inquisitive (and probably appalled) gaze. "Oh, God. Get out. Don't look at me. This is so embarrassing."

Allistor steps closer, _clearly _paying Lovino's orders no heed.

Just as Lovino is about to run for the changing area, the Scotsman steps forward and gently grabs the Italian's wrist.

Lovino turned away from him, his face burning a bright red. "Shit! Fuck, no, I—"

The Scot finally gets a thorough look-see at Lovino and his heart skips a beat. "Lov, yeh— yeh look stunning."

The brunette was stunned to the point of speechlessness. Did he really just..?

"W-_What_?!" Immediately, Lovino manages to snap out of his trance, pulling his arm out of the redhead's grasp. "No, no! Don't you dare say shit like that, d-dammit—"

His breath hitches in his throat, the words he'd wanted to say suddenly lost.

A-Allistor was right in front of him.

Staring him dead in the eye.

Oh, God.

Perfection personified leant in slowly, _oh_-so slowly, taking Lovino's chin in his hand. The Italian's heart was beating so hard against his chest, he felt like it'd burst out any second. He could practically hear his heart pulsating.

…And time crawled to a halt.

Their eyes grew half-lidded with every inch they grew closer, hazel eyes meeting forest green ones before Allistor's lingered upon the Italian's lips. They looked soft. Inviting.

The redhead was the one to close the gap between their needing lips, their mouths already slightly parted in anticipation. His mouth lingered, tasting the Italian's. Lovino parted his lips a fraction, Allistor swiping his tongue along Lovino's bottom lip before their tongues brushed together.

Allistor tasted like cinnamon and menthol cigarettes. It drove Lovino over the edge.

Several seconds pass and Allistor pulls away, subconsciously licking his lips. He chuckled, "Sorreh, Ah couldn't 'elp m'self. Yeh taste _absolutely _delectable, it's intoxicating me."

Lovino's heart skipped a beat in exaltation, something akin a soft whimper escaping his lips. Quickly, he reaches up and finally— _finally_— runs his fingers through the Scotsman's scarlet locks, as he'd always wanted to do, and pulled him _in _for another exhilarating kiss. It was transcendental; every touch sent tingles down his spine, the rapid beating of his heart hasn't slowed down once, and he felt oh-so lightheaded.

Allistor deepened the kiss, tightly wrapping his arms around Lov's body, pulling him in closer and _closer _'til the only thing in between them were the fabric of their clothes.

The redhead pulls away for a bit so he can kiss down Lovino's slender neck, the latter exposing one side so the former could get better access as he sunk his teeth into the soft, sweet skin, nipping; sucking.

A ragged moan escaped Lovino's lips. He's been wanting this _so much _for so _long_. It was surreal.

Allistor groans in response, abruptly pulling away to feverishly press his lips against the Italian's. Immediately, the brunette wraps his arms around the redhead's neck, having to stand on his toes just to hold him better.

The action doesn't go unnoticed.

The room feels like it's a hundred degrees as Allistor presses flush against him, blindly guiding the both of them to the general direction of the dressing table.

Two strong pale hands hike the crimson dress up as Allistor lifts the Vargas onto the table by the back of his thighs, two svelte, creamy legs on either side of the Scotsman's waist. Lovino hooks his legs together, pulling Allistor in closer.

Their lips are still locked; Lovino coyly bites the redhead's bottom lip before gently sucking on it, earning a satisfying gasp from the latter. The former then coaxes Allistor's tongue into his mouth using his own.

Allistor's hands are shaking as they slide up, _up_, **_up_** Lovino's legs, tenderly massaging his thighs.

Pure lust is heady in the air as they find themselves soon growing short of breath. Briefly, they pull away a fraction so they can catch their breath, the redhead resting his forehead against the brunette's momentarily before he pulls away.

"Dammit, Lov," Allistor gasps out, cupping the Italian's chin and raising it up so he could gaze into beautiful hazel eyes— half-lidded and clouded with longing and desire— mirroring his own.

Lovino looks absolutely _breathtaking _right now. His sun-kissed face is flushed a deep red, and his now-puffy lips are swollen and slightly parted.

_This boy is divine, _Allistor thinks, deciding they'd had enough time to rest and going in for another kiss.

* * *

Antonio wove his way through the many Performing Arts students lingering outside the building, deftly making his way to the fourth theatre. He immediately heads backstage. Over the past few days, he's learnt to find Lovi on his own. He didn't want to ask Allistor for help, if possible. Because whenever he did, Allistor and Lovi would start talking. They would talk a lot, and Antonio wouldn't have a chance to get a word in.

The Spaniard walked over to the area he'd seen Lovino earlier during lunch, only to no avail. So he decided to look around some more. What if the Italian had already gone home? Or somewhere else..?

* * *

Lovino wriggles a bit closer to the Scotsman, who in return, lifts him up a fraction to press him against the mirror of the dressing table, sending bottles of perfume and cosmetics tumbling and clattering noisily to the floor as things started to heat up— and fast.

A bottle of perfume or something, maybe two, had shattered upon impact, permeating the room with the scent of magnolias. The two paid it no heed, too caught up in their osculations to care about… about anything else, really.

* * *

Antonio walked down one of the corridors that led to the dressing room, only to be stopped by a brunette with wavy hair and caramel skin. He'd seen her before. She was one of Lovino's friends, right..? He didn't know her name, though.

"I wouldn't go there if I were you. You'll thank me in the long run." She says, giving him a playful wink before sauntering off.

_Don__'__t go where? _Antonio found himself thinking. _Why? What would I thank her for?_

As he half-heartedly fought off his curiosity, it had gotten the better of him and he succumbed to it anyway.

He started to make his way down the narrow hall, random boxes and racks of clothing scattered about the area. And— And what is that _awful _smell? Was this what the girl was warning him about?

Ugh, it smelt like someone had marinated themselves in old people perfume. Eww, eau de grandparents…

His face scrunches up in slight distaste and confusion as he reaches the dressing room near the end of the hall. The door is wide open, and he heard noises in there. Something clattered to the ground, followed by several more articles. The Spaniard slowed down his footsteps, carefully peeking into the room.

His heart sunk to the bottom of his chest.

He saw Lovi and… and Allistor, **_kissing_**. His stomach churned in jealousy, trying to resist the urge to make his presence known and— and _rip _the Scot off of the Italian's body, and—

Was Lovi wearing… a dress? He licked his lips, watching in a fucked up mix of horror, mortification and i-_interest_ as Allistor slid his hand up and down Lovino's side, the Scot's lips gently kneading against the Italian's before he pulled away and started to nip at the latter's neck.

Lovino was quick to take the redhead's hand and guide it to his soft, _soft_-looking thigh, his eyes half-lidded in lust before fluttering close completely.

Antonio's breath quickened. His mouth had gone dry and he felt nauseated and sick watching him— Allistor— just _touch _Lovi like that, yet he couldn't bring himself to budge an inch. He was transfixed; _too _transfixed with the Vargas twin's expression of utter bliss. Bliss that Antonio, too, could make Lovino feel if he would just _fucking let him_.

_He _wanted to be the one to touch Lovino like that. Oh, God. He wanted to touch him so badly. To kiss him, hold him, taste him, _dominate him, **take him**_— it's too much, oh God, it's too much—

Without completely realising it, there was this heat that started to pool beneath his stomach. Was this… _actually _beginning to turn him on?

Oh God.

Allistor pulled away so Lovino could adjust his position on the dressing table a little better, the former's hands returning to the Italian's slender waist, before the latter leant up to kiss him again. Their tongues danced, tangling together, as a moan escaped Lovino's lips when Allistor began to run his hand up and down Lovino's bare leg, using the other hand to balance himself on the dressing table.

No.

_No_.

Antonio finally got a grip on himself to look away but inadvertently stumbled back into the rack of clothing, the hangers clattering against the wall.

Immediately, the _happy_ _couple_ pulled apart, their lips making an audibly (_painful_)wet _smack~! _as their eyes darted to the source of the noise. The Spaniard, whose pants were somewhat tighter, whose face was flushed red in _anger _and _embarrassment_ and _shame_, quickly ran off, all thoughts of giving Lovi his tomatoes having left his mind.

In his panic, he ran away— out of the theatre, _out _of the building, _out _of the campus, and all the way to his own apartment. His lungs were burning with the need for oxygen— _oxygen_— and his heart ached _terribly _with jealousy and distraught.

He wasn't good enough for Lovi. Not when Lovi won't give him a chance—

An incredulous yell escaped his lips.

W-Why was he still hard?! God fucking dammit!

After— After this…

He quickly made his way to the bathroom and leant against the cool tile wall, his eyes half-lidded as he remembered every detail of Lovino's expression, his face— o-oh, God, that beautiful face— and the way he looked at Allistor in desire—

_Allistor._

The Spaniard burned in envy and frustration, hot angry tears stinging the back of his eyes. Deep, ragged breaths escaped his lips as he tried to beat off _every single instinct _in his body to take what was rightfully his and show the Scotsman that he _was_ a force to be reckoned with.

But he couldn't.

Like, what _bearing _did he have— _could possibly _have— on someone like… like Lovino?

_Lovino_, of all people.

Someone who was too far up for him to even _reach_.

Oh God.

_L-Lovi__…_

Santa Maria, those _legs_. If he could close his eyes, he could imagine Lovino getting hot and bothered for him and him _only_. He could envision Lovino's face flushed in ardent desire, the sheen of the thin layer of sweat on his skin illuminated by the dim lights. And that _moan_. Unf.

He licked his lips. He wanted him. He wanted to touch him.. Because nothing is more tempting than someone you can't have.

Face still flushed in shame, he began to unzip his jeans. They were getting far too tight for comfort.

* * *

Allistor quickly turns away from the Italian, his face nearly as red as his hair. Lovino was no better. Their breath had grown heavy and uneven; their clothes were rumpled; hair dishevelled; bodies slick with sweat. Lovino shakily slid off of the table though his legs felt wobbly, eyes trained to his feet as he tried to make sense of it all.

His face heated up like crazy. Someone had actually _seen _them. Oh God. What would they think now? Who even were they? And they were too caught up to close the goddamn door, fucking hell—

Allistor had his back turned on him, hands on his hips as he tried to catch his breath; process what had just happened.

God, it was— it was _amazing_. Kissing Lovino was like doing a drug that drove him over the edge. He'd never been so forward in his life before, no; not until Lovino came in the picture. After trying _not _to succumb to the Italian's charms for so long, he had finally caved. He gave into the temptation.

And it was _so_, so worth it.

A breathless laughed escaped the Scot's lips, and Lovino laughed in return. It was a weird type of awkward yet relieved laugh, really. After all this time, they'd finally— finally kissed.

"Ah suppose Ah should be getting back now. Before they send anyone else to come looking for us." He starts, heading for the door. Then he stops, turning to face the Vargas. "Um, wait for me. A-After this… yeah?"

Lovino manages a small smile. "Yeah."

Allistor swallows, then sighs in relief. "Good. An' Ah fink it's best if yeh… change back into yer other clothes? Before anyone else sees. Yeh might get in trouble for tha', but Ah won't tell anyone. Don't worry."

The Vargas nods blankly, still overwhelmed with what's happened.

The Scot quickly walks over and gives Lovino a chaste parting kiss before hurriedly walking away, busily fixing his button down and his hair.

Lovino can't help but smile to himself, grabbing his clothes and hurrying to the changing area.

* * *

The moment Lovino exits the changing room in his regular clothes, the entourage is already there, waiting for him.

"So?" Elizabeta starts, grinning at him suggestively. "How was it? Was it amazing or was it _ah-ma-zing_?"

Lovino's face flushes a deep red. He scoffs. "I don't kiss-and-tell."

She smirks, tapping at a spot near the nape of his neck. "I don't need no kiss-and-tell when I've already seen enough to prove me right!"

His eyes widen in shock as he hurries over to the dressing table— which still _reeked_ of magnolia perfume, by the way— and gawked at the several dark hickeys adorning the area around his neck. "Shit." He hisses, lightly ghosting the tips of his fingers over the contusions. He's blushing so hard, even the tips of his ears are red. "That bastard."

His head drops in shame as he tries to fix his shirt to hide whatever of them he can.

Feliks rolls his eyes. "Oh my God. You're helpless. Come here!"

Lovino stops and stares at the Pole. "_Why_?"

"Duh, I have concealer. Now come here!"

With a laboured sigh, Lovino begrudgingly trudges over to the blond. The latter fishes his glittery makeup kit out of his Chanel bag and pulls a triangular makeup sponge and a narrow tube of concealer out. Then he turns to inspect the damage on Lovino's neck.

His eyes widen in surprise. "Like what the hell. Are you sure you didn't make out with, like, a vacuum cleaner or something? Because these are _way _too dark to be hickeys. Honey, I wouldn't be surprised if you started bleeding or something."

Bella starts to make slobbery hoovering noises and the Vargas grits his teeth together, trying to will the embarrassment to fuck off. "Shut the fuck up."

The Belgian bursts out laughing.

Liz steps forward and looks at the love bites herself. Then she nods in agreement. "I guess he got too eager. Eager beaver. I'll bet he likes it rough; Scottish fire and all. Rawr~"

Lovino scowls at her. "'Rawr~' my ass, Héderváry. Drop it."

She places her hands on her hips in disbelief. "You're supposed to be happy about this! You just made out with the love of your life!" She pats his shoulder— though a _bit _too hard. He winces. "Cherish it. Treasure this moment."

Feliks eases up the collar of Lovino's shirt a bit and dabs spots of concealer on it, blending it into his skin with the makeup sponge. "This'll have to do since you're, like, gonna go home anyway. And if you're gonna keep this up, you might as well get, like, a cover stick from Maybelline or something. That or invest in, like, a bajillion turtleneck sweaters. Remember. Ugly sweaters are only excusable for family gatherings during Christmas, Hanukkah, or Thanksgiving. And that's if only you're _absolutely_ forced to wear one. Stick to basic colours."

"Gee, thanks. I'll keep that in mind," the Vargas says, sarcasm dripping off his tone, yet his heart fluttered at the mere thought of… of y'know. _Kissing some more_.

It _definitely _wasn't the first time he's kissed someone and he really hoped it wouldn't be the last.

* * *

After practise had come to an end, as promised, Lovino waited for Allistor to finish. He couldn't help but be really, _really _nervous. This was going to be a huge step for him. Honestly, he'd never been in a relationship before. And with the way he was, it was a huge surprise someone as _amazing _and perfect as Allistor _wanted _him. _Wanted _to be with him. (R-Right?)

That, in itself, was the most terrifying thing for Lovino _ever_.

He could only hope that he would be good enough for the Scot and make him stay. He really didn't want to fuck this up. God knows he's ruined enough; and even then, he didn't have to try.

"Hey, Lov," Allistor says quietly, walking up to the Italian and bashfully kissing his forehead. Lovino melted inside. "Yeh ready ta go?"

The Italian nods, and they walk in silence out of the campus, both lost in each of their own thoughts.

"W-Where are we going?" Lovino forces himself to speak; break the silence.

"Um," says Allistor, at a loss for words himself. "Uh. How about th' park?"

Lovino nods. "Sure."

Allistor spread his palm out in front of the Italian. The latter, confused, cast a curious glance at the Scotsman before placing his own (smaller) hand on top of it. To his surprise, Allistor laced his fingers with his before dropping it down to his side, a satisfied and cheeky smile on his face.

Lovino couldn't help but flush a bright red. Oh, God. They were holding hands. They were really going to do this whole relationship thing. Allistor's hand is _so _warm. And their fingers fit _perfectly_, like that was where they had always belonged.

"So, um," Lovino began the moment they walked into the park. A chuckle laden with disbelief escapes his lips. And together, they laugh.

Allistor had abruptly stopped walking and swung his arms around Lovino's torso, hugging him tightly. The Italian's arms pinned to his sides, he could do nothing more but awkwardly (and l-_lovingly_) pat him on the back. He buried his face into the redhead's chest, just taking in the smell of coffee and cigarettes that always seemed to linger on him.

It was nice. Really, really nice.

They stay like that for a while before pulling away and sitting on one of the benches, just taking in the quiet. They held hands.

"I've never done this before, so…" Lovino says, breaking the silence. He drew and exhaled a shaky breath. Then he glanced up at Allistor, searching in his breathtaking forest green eyes for something— _something_— that could possibly tell him that the Scot _did _care too, and wanted what _he _wanted. "What are we now?"

Allistor grins, and Lovino can't help but laugh again, covering his face out of embarrassment. "God. Sorry, I just— I can't—" A sigh. "I don't know how to do these things, okay? I don't know the fucking MO for— for _this_."

"'Th' fucking MO'," Allistor echoes, amused.

And Lovino nods. "Yes. The fucking modus operandi. So cut me some slack, okay? This shit ain't easy. This shit is _not _easy."

The Scot shifts in his seat a bit to turn to Lovino. "What do yeh fink we are then, Lov?"

The latter scowls. "I don't know. Like I said, I don't know how these things… o-_operate_."

This time, it's Allistor's turn to laugh. "Oh, Lov. It's not a machine or anyfink like tha'." He gingerly cups the Italian's cheek with his other hand. "Do yeh want ta be wif me? Like, in _Tha__' __Way_?"

Lovino averts his gaze. "I wouldn't _not_ want to… Do you?"

"Of course Ah would," Allistor says, laughing as he leant in a bit closer, stroking Lovino's cheek with the pad of his thumb. "Will yeh 'ave me, Lov?"

"Fuck _yes_," Lovino says, and the redhead pulls him in for a chaste kiss and a hug. He rubs big warm circles onto Lovino's back.

"Does this mean we're together now?" The latter couldn't help but stupidly ask, immediately cursing himself for his derpiness.

Allistor laughs, pulling away so he can look at Lovino. The corners of his eyes are crinkling with joy. "Of course we are, Lov."

And again, they began to kiss.

* * *

The next morning, Antonio waits outside the Vargas twins' apartment again. He felt weary, honestly, and he hadn't slept well.

Lovino was the first one out of the building, whose hazel eyes glazed over him in indifference. He didn't care. He wasn't good enough for Lovino to care. The Italian snorts in amusement, a wry smirk on his face. "You look like shit. Just saying."

"Yes, and I _feel _like shit too~!" Antonio wants to retort, but he doesn't. He reins in his emotions. He bites his tongue.

He looks the other way since it hurt too much to see the person he liked wearing a hoodie in such hot weather. The more he tried to hide his love bites, the more it became obvious.

Even for a fool like Antonio.

He swallows, glancing at the ground and frowning as he dug his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Feliciano quickly followed. Upon noticing the Spaniard's dishevelled state, he knit his eyebrows together in concern. "Ve~ What's wrong, Toni? Are you alright?"

Antonio could only slowly shake his head, forcing a smile on his face. He's certain that the light doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"I'm fine," he says, even as his heart was breaking. "Perfectly fine~."

* * *

**Translations:**

_Dio _\- God (It.)

**Let me tell you what you are probably already thinking.**

**"_This shit went from normal to creepy as fuck real fast smh__"_**

**"_WELL THAT ESCALATED QUICKLY__"_**

**"_Wtf is this__"_**

**If your reaction was along these lines, I wholeheartedly agree with you. Even now, I'm not sure what the ding dang doodly happened either. But to be honest, I've planned this cross-dressing thing _long _before I've even published the fifth chapter, so this scene was pretty much set in stone. What _wasn__'__t _set in stone, however, was Toni getting a little, uh… _voyeuristic_.**

**Plus, this fic will be _really _heavy on bacchanalian pleasures and indulgences, as well as dark themes anyway, if Lovino's list wasn't indication enough.**

**I'm starting to go easy on Allistor's accent, and I'm starting to phase out the usage of foreign language in this some. Expect that Lovi and Feli will still call each other _fratello_, though. And I can't really stop using double apostrophes since it'll kinda lose consistency with the story so far. I kinda have this idiosyncrasy where I don't like to tamper with my story chapters once they've been published, save for a skim for the occasional grammatical error that may have slipped through during proofreading.**

**Regarding the stereotypical Tumblr poetry thing, I don't know whether to laugh or to cry because that was _exactly _what I was going for. I guess I hit the bulls-eye (honhon motherfucker). I'll work on it. As well as the awkwardness of the dialogue as well. Hahaha~**

**~jellydonut16~**

**P.S. For Nyla :3 (AKA _Kawaii Dream_)**


	18. eighteen

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_**Kicking the Bucket List**_

**eighteen**

"…_**It's like… a snowball effect. It rolls down the slope of a snowy mountain, gradually getting bigger until it finally hits something and is crushed to pieces. That tiny snowball is me. The snow I'm collecting are my problems and worries and the burdens I feel. It's getting bigger… and bigger… and bigger. And at one point, I will fall apart and become nothing.**_**"  
**— _**jellydonut16**_**'s diary; July 5th, 2013 (Friday).**

Antonio stares at the concrete, rocking back and forth on the heels of his feet, face blank and hands shoved deep into his pockets. He's lost in a trance, too tired this morning to deal with his thoughts any longer. A car drives down to the basement parking lot for the apartment building the Vargas twins stayed in, but he doesn't really pay it any heed. Several minutes lapse, and footsteps soon approach him. Antonio's waiting for the pedestrian to walk past, only to have that person come to a halt right beside him. He still doesn't glance up.

"Morning, Antonio," A familiar voice says, and Antonio stills. He is quickly brought out of his daze and glances up at the Scotsman he's grown to dislike, forcing an amiable smile on his face since he was too drained— _much _too drained— to speak. It barely lasts several seconds before it drops down into a look of contempt.

Allistor leans against one of the streetlights, reaching into his back pocket and taking a box of cigarettes out, as well as a lighter. He shakes one out before raising the box up to the Spaniard.

"Smoke?" He asks. Antonio tersely shakes his head.

The former nods his head in understanding, lighting the cigarette up with a silver Zippo and lifting the cancer stick up to his lips. He shoves the Zippo and Marlboro lights back into his pocket, quickly pulling the cigarette out of his mouth and exhaling a puff of smoke.

"Ah'm waiting for Lovino. He says he wants to introduce me to his brother," the redhead nonchalantly says, to break the silence in between taking long drags of his smoke. "Yeh waiting for someone?"

"No duh," is what Antonio wants to say, but that wouldn't be nice. You can't be mean to nice people, even _if _they're dating the person you really, _really_ like. Instead, he nods, casting a sideways glance at the Scot. "Yeah, I walk to campus with Lovino and Feliciano. _Every _morning." He says instead, wanting to rub the fact into Allistor's face a bit. The latter doesn't notice, doesn't react. Of course he wouldn't. Why would he?

"Oh," Allistor says, though a bit awkwardly. He'd finally caught onto Antonio's growing hostility, but he doesn't mention it. Maybe, perhaps, the brunette was in a mood or something. Wouldn't want to get in a row of some sort, now would we? "Nice."

_Bzzzt! Bzzzt! Bzzzt!_

The redhead fishes his phone out of his pocket, staring down at the screen and smiling. He quickly runs his thumb across the screen and holds it to his ear.

"Hey," the Scot greets. He pauses as the person on the other line speaks, glancing up at the three-story building. "Yeah, Ah'm already 'ere. D'yeh want me ta go up, Lov?"

Antonio becomes rigid in realisation. He should've known. The leaden weight in the pit of his stomach only seems to grow heavier, dragging his spirits down with it. Honestly, he hated how affected he was by this.

"Righ'. Ah'll see yeh in a sec." Then Allistor hangs up.

Within moments, Lovino jogs down the stairs beside the elevator, wearing a tie-dye hoodie, black skinny jeans and Vans. His eyes light up the moment he sees the Scotsman outside the building, likewise the way Antonio's eyes light up when he sees him, even amidst the hurt.

The Italian deftly steps out of the building, and the redhead goes in for a hug, only to have Lovino come to an abrupt halt, his gaze landing on the Spaniard. Somehow, the latter felt like he was intruding, even though he'd come here before Allistor had. It sucked.

As Lovino looks at him warily, Antonio fakes a smile and greets him with a semi-passable 'good morning'.

"Good morning, Lov," Allistor says too, smiling at him.

"Yeah," Lovino says breathlessly, focussing his gaze on the Scotsman before him. "Good morning."

He awkwardly pats Allistor's shoulder, beginning to give his boyfriend a succinct rundown on Feliciano's lack of etiquette and how he will _probably_ (most likely) try to hug the living daylights out of him once they meet. "Look, I… I didn't tell him about you _yet_. So chances are, this is gonna be one hell of a surprise."

"Relax, Lov. Everything will be alrigh'." Allistor coaxes, placing his hands on Lovino's shoulders. "Ah'm sure Feliciano an' Ah will get along perfect!"

The Italian draws and releases a shaky breath, hazel eyes meeting forest green ones. "Okay. Right. Just— Just don't be surprised if you end up fucking _asphyxiating_ or something, because Feliciano has one hell of a hug. _Especially _if he's fond of you. Which he will be, I can tell. Don't say I didn't warn you, got it?"

The corner of Lovino's lips twitches downwards as he automatically reaches up to fix the collar of Allistor's green button-down. "God, you look like Peter Pan in this," he snorts. "That or a Christmas ornament. That'd work too."

"Mm, from yeh, Lov, tha's a compliment!"

In return, Allistor reaches up to trace his fingers along the exposed skin near Lovino's neck, pushing the hood of his jersey away. He faintly sees purplish marks and flushes a light red as Lovino shivers and slaps his hand away. "The fuck are you doing?"

"Two days and they still aren't gone," Allistor murmurs distractedly, though not without the slightest hint of amusement and satisfaction in his tone.

Lovino's face flushes a bright red. "Yeah, no thanks to you, asshole."

"Sorry?" The other offers pathetically, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. He was clearly not sorry at all.

Antonio, having overheard it (it's not like he had a choice, anyway), couldn't help but seethe in jealousy. Still, the couple paid him no heed. It was like he wasn't even there at all. And with how shitty he felt at the moment, he might as well have not been. He should have just… just walked to campus with Francis and Gilbert, like how he always used to do.

In fact, he should just go. _Now_. It's not like they'll even notice him in the first place. Yes. He should probably go. None of the Vargas brothers had ever asked him to walk with them to campus, anyway, so Feliciano probably wouldn't mind, right?

But he didn't want to leave Lovino, as much as it hurt to be around him at the moment. God. He could feel himself coming undone. Albeit his internal conflict, he _knew_ he needed to go, and fast. It was getting too much for him. He muttered a quick goodbye to the happy couple, which had gone unnoticed. He turned on his heel and made his way to campus. Antonio drew in and released a shaky breath, drily swallowing the lump of feels that had formed in the back of his throat. He absolutely _hated _this feeling!

This wasn't supposed to happen, not now! Not so soon into the school year! All it took was one thing— just _one _thing— to trigger him and undo everything he'd ever tried to mend. _Over _and _over _and _over _again. His thoughts overwhelmed him like a flash flood, inundating all the nooks and crannies of his mind, to the point where it all blurred together into one _fucked up_ mess. He never really could comprehend it all, let alone why he _felt_ like this.

No, no— why he _had _to feel like this.

It wasn't _all _the time, but it had always been there, looming over him like a shadow. He wasn't sure at what point this had become of the norm for him, but somewhere amidst all the faisandé smiles and the constant façade of him always being a cheerful, _happy _person over the years, it had just become a part of him, like some sort of defence mechanism ingrained into his mentality or his superego, to keep up the show. Not only for his sake, but for everybody else's.

Usually, he'd be able to keep that winning smile on his face no matter what. But today? Today was one of Those Days where unexplainable, _unshakeable_ sadness would just consume him, wrapping its spindly tendrils around his body as they suffocated the life out of him slowly. But as he finds himself on the verge of death, it releases him from its grasp, leaving him gasping for air. The flood waters have receded; the sun has come out again, though not completely dispelling the darkness that overcast him. But that's okay. It's okay to not be okay. He finds reprieve from these thoughts like leaden weights, akin anchors that exist to drag him down to the bottom of the sea.

It _will _get better. Antonio knows this.

Just not today.

Not today.

* * *

Mere moments after Antonio's quiet departure, Feliciano comes bounding out of the elevator and walks out of the building. "Lovi! You didn't wait for me!" He begins, only to immediately trail off once his honey-brown eyes land the redhead. "Hi! Who are you?"

Lovino facepalms himself as Allistor and Feliciano warmly shake hands, "'Ello. Me name's Allistor."

"I'm Feliciano! Lovi's brother. Ve~ Are you a friend of his?" Feli asks, beaming up at the Scotsman.

"Well, about that," Lovino sheepishly begins, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. "Um. _Fratello_. Don't freak out on me, alright?"

Feliciano's brows knit together in confusion. "'Don't freak out'?" He echoes, tilting his head to the side slightly as the words sunk into his conscience. He stilled.

…_What_?

What does he mean by 'don't freak out'?!

Don't— Don't 'freak out' about what?!

What's wrong? What's happening?!

Immediately, Feliciano began to panic, scanning Lovino's body for any signs of hurt or injury. Because when someone tells you _not _to freak out, of _course _your first reaction would be to do the exact opposite and _freak out_.

He put his hands on Lovi's shoulders to keep him in place as he examined his brother carefully at arm's length before patting down the older Italian's body. "Are you alright? Are you hurt? Did something happen? _Fratello_, talk to me!"

"Oh my God, Feliciano, _calm the fuck down_." Lovino says exasperatedly, either trying to swat at his brother's touchy-feely hands or trying to grab his wrists. He fails either way. "I'm perfectly fine, dammit!"

Feliciano promptly stops his ministrations, drawing his hands back slightly. "Then— Then what are you talking about, Lovi?"

Lovino's face suddenly becomes very red. Feliciano can't help but stare in a mix of bewilderment and fascination. Watching Lovi's face flush fifty shades of crimson was always entertaining to watch, in a way. It was kinda mesmerising. If you took a video of it, you would think it was Photoshopped or something, but it's not! It's all natural! Amazing, right?

"Um." The older twin begins again, motioning to Allistor with one hand. "A-Allistor is… H-He's my—"

Allistor decides to help Lovino out by wrapping his arm around his shoulders, beaming at Feliciano. "Ah'm 'is boyfriend!"

Feliciano's honey brown eyes widen in incredulousness. "_What_?" He turns to Lovi for confirmation. "_Really_? Since _when_?!" Then his face scrunches up in hurt as he pouts at his brother. "How come you've only told me now?"

"I just—" Lovino is at a loss for words, stumbling over what he could manage to scrape up off the top of his head as he gesticulates. He opts to bring Feliciano aside to explain (argue) better, with Allistor hanging back and watching them curiously as they bickered in rapid-fire Italian. "I don't know. It's not that I didn't wanna _tell _you, but it just… I just didn't."

"But why? I would've understood! Don't you trust me?"

"Dammit, of _course _I do, but—"

"But what? You've never mentioned Allistor until now! Are you sure this isn't some kind of mid-teen crisis? Or a _phase_?"

Lovino gawks at him, taking offence to that. "Oh my God— _No_, it is _not_ a mid-teen crisis. It's not a fucking phase either, dammit! It's just, like, I didn't tell you because I didn't think I needed to!"

"'Didn't think you needed to'?" Feli echoed, his eyes growing watery. "I tell you _everything _about what goes on in my life! You could at least do the same!"

The older twin rolled his eyes. "Well, it's not like you _ask _me to—"

"Oh no. No, no, no! Don't even try to place the blame on me—"

"_What _blame?"

"—because the _least _you could've done was _tell _me like, 'hey, Feli, I met this guy and I think I like him' or something, so I could give my approval, but _nooo_, you went straight ahead and got together with him! W-Where did you meet him, anyway?"

He glances over Lovino's shoulder to look at Allistor, who catches his eye and smiles amiably.

"I met him at school. He's taking Performing Arts too." Lovino mutters awkwardly, glancing down at his feet. He kicks at the pavement. "Ugh. Can we just talk about this later? I have class too, FYI. And so does he."

Feliciano, always the mother hen when it came to Lovino's social life, tutted in disappointment at his brother's discreetness. Lovino couldn't help but cringe. He's going to get one _hell _of a sermon later. Then Feli's honey-brown eyes widened as he realised something. He felt sad.

What about Toni? Toni had passed Feli's qualifications, but would Allistor? He's only known the man today! He looked at his twin carefully, somehow understanding that no one could get to his aloof brother so easily, so Allistor _must _be good for Lovi, right? Since it's Lovi who chose him. Wanted him as well.

Yet still, his heart clenched in sympathy for Antonio. He wondered how the Spaniard would take it.

As the Vargas twins stood in silence, Feliciano had asked him sotto voce, "Does he make you happy?"

Lovino doesn't even have to think twice. "Yeah." He admits, his face growing red. "He does."

Feli takes a deep breath and hugs his brother close. "Then that's all that matters. But we're still going to have a talk later, okay?"

"I figured." The other deadpans, sighing in relief as he hugs back.

Feliciano is the first one to pull away, making his way to Allistor. "Ve~ Sorry about that. False alarm!" He places his hands on his hips and his expression grows more serious and solemn. "Now you better take care of my brother, alright?"

"Of course Ah will," Allistor says, honestly; sincerely. "Lovino means a lot to me."

Since Feliciano doesn't know Allistor that well yet, he opts to take the Scot's words in at face value. He pulls the tall redhead in for a warm hug, patting his back. "Ve~ Well it's great to meet you, Allistor. Maybe we can have dinner tonight, _si_? So I can get to know you more."

The Scot glances up at the older Vargas brother automatically for the okay. Lovino just glances away, face flushed red. "Whatever, dammit…" he mutters, though he inwardly hopes Allistor would agree anyway.

And he does just that.

"Ah'd love to!" Allistor says, pulling away to grin at the younger Vargas.

Feliciano smiles in response. Then he glances around curiously. "Ve~ I wonder when Toni will be here."

Lovino frowns upon hearing the mention of the Spaniard. Then he, too, glances around as well. Huh. The bastard's gone AWOL.

"He was 'ere just a while ago," Allistor says, confused. "Maybe he had somefink ta do, yeah?"

His boyfriend shrugs his shoulders in cold indifference. "Probably."

_Uh-oh._ Feliciano frowns. "V-Ve~ You have a morning class with him today, don't you, _fratello_?"

"Yeah," Lovino answers, as they all started to walk to campus. Allistor is by his side, discreetly lacing their fingers together. The older Vargas manages to fight off the blush as he focusses his attention on Feliciano.

"Can you do me a favour, Lovi?" Feli asks.

Lovino raises an eyebrow. "What kind of favour?"

"Um. Can you ask him if he's alright? Because normally, we'd all walk to school together, _si_? So now it feels all weird now that he isn't here."

And it was. Feliciano had more than a hunch that it had something to do with his _fratello's _new relationship. Ve~ He could only hope that Toni wasn't taking it _too _badly. But still, he couldn't help but wonder. What'll he do now?

Will he still pursue someone who's already in a relationship, or just let him go?

Once they all reach the campus, they split paths as Feliciano makes his way to the Art Department. Allistor is actually supposed to go the same way as Feli since the Performing Arts Department is on the way, but he opts to drop Lovi off at the classroom for his first class of the day instead.

As they walk through the courtyard, through the hallways, somehow, all eyes are on them. Honestly, it creeped Lovino the fuck out. Like, 90% of the couples here were homosexual. What's another one, right? Haven't they ever seen two guys holding hands before? The Scotsman doesn't pay it any heed, though. He's too wrapped up in Lovino to give a damn, really.

"So Ah guess Ah'll see yeh during lunchtime, yeah?" Allistor asks, smiling at him.

Lovino glances up at him and red dusts the top of his sun-kissed cheeks. He raises an eyebrow. "Obviously. It's not like I have a choice in that matter, anyway, dammit."

"There's no escape," the redhead playfully muses, leaning down to peck his cheek. The couple come to a halt and find themselves in front of Lovino's classroom.

"Ah'll see yeh later, Lov." Allistor whispers lowly into his ear. He takes a quick look around the corridor. There's no one else but them. "Give me a kiss before I go?"

The Italian shoves Allistor's face away, his own flushing a very vibrant red. "Fuck no, dammit! People might see! _Again_."

"Not if Ah make it quick~"

"_No._"

Allistor pouts. "Please?"

Lovino looks sideways before he roughly grabs two fistfuls of the redhead's button-down and pulls him in for a chaste kiss. Somehow, he feels discontent with that, so he kisses him again.

And again.

And again.

…_And_ again.

Ironically, Allistor is the one who pulls away lest they get carried off and start snogging against the lockers. However tempting, it's not very ideal. He presses his lips to Lovino's forehead, brushing the Italian's fringe aside with his hand. "Ah'll see yeh later, Lov. Text me, yeah?"

"Yeah," the Vargas twin mutters, feeling woozy with bliss.

And with that, the Scot briskly walks away.

* * *

The moment Antonio gets to campus, he makes his way to the classroom for his first morning class. It's a Wednesday, so it was Philosophy class with Lovino again. He's the first one in the room; no surprise there since he's about thirty minutes early. He takes his seat in front of the class and sets his backpack down in front of him, heaving a deep sigh.

It was so early in the day, and yet, he felt so _tired_. Like he just wanted to skip classes for the rest of the day, go back home, and go to sleep. Forever. But he'd already ridden himself of the tendency to skip class whenever he felt like it, so he couldn't do that_ now_. That'd be like relapsing in more ways than one. He sighed once again, crossing his arms over his backpack and burying his face into his arms. He could feel the back of his eyes stinging with tears; feel his nose getting runny.

He's been rejected before, yes, but it's never hurt _like this_. God. _Why?! Why _did it hurt so much?! Normally, he would take the rejection light-heartedly; because there are always more fish in the sea, right?

But this… It was borderline _unbearable_.

Antonio could practically feel his thoughts _suffocating _him. The sepulchral thoughts are there, looming over him. They're mocking him. They're saying he's not good enough, _was _never good enough, and will _never _be good enough for… for Lovino.

After all, they were practically _opposites_; on either end of the personality spectrum. Like, what would Lovino ever see in him? He wasn't into literature, or plays, or sophisticated stuff like that. He was into playing guitar and football, beating Gilbert at whatever video game he was playing, and hanging out with his best friends.

He was, in his opinion, a pretty simple person. Someone like _him _would never be able to understand someone as deep or as complex as Lovino, right? Yet how he'd wished he would, though. He couldn't keep himself from hoping that by some twist of fate, Lovino would _actually_ take notice of him and see that, _yes_, Antonio wanted to get to know him _truly_, and there were no hard feelings whatsoever, and actually _give him a fucking chance_.

But the hidden cynic within him tells him that Lovino would never let him in.

A breathless gasp escapes Antonio's lips as hears voices and footfalls fast approaching the classroom. He immediately sits up; makes sure he looks like he hasn't been going through emotional turmoil. A red, runny nose and bleary, watery eyes are a no-no.

Or else, people will ask questions.

Questions that Antonio, more often than not, cannot answer. Because he either doesn't _want _to divulge answers in fear of more questions, or that he honestly doesn't know the answers himself. He could _practically_ recite the conversations that's happened one too many times.

Like, '_What's wrong with you?'_

'_I'm sad.'_

'_Why are you feeling sad?'_

Silence as he pores over it. There are either too many reasons, or none at all.

'_I don't know,' _he'd say. Because he didn't.

'_Why don't you know? There _has _to be a reason, right? Nobody gets sad for no reason.'_

Exactly.

Which is why he was better off not talking, anyway. No one needs to know. Except for Gil and Franny. They'd understand him. Other people had a tendency to stay away from you once they found out you were depressed, anyway.

Then he couldn't help but wonder: would Lovino understand him as well? What if they were similar in more ways than one? The latter being their fondness of tomatoes, of course.

"…Hey, bastard—"

Before he realises he's spaced out, he's snapped out of his thoughts again. His heart skips a beat the moment his eyes meet a splash of tie-dyed rainbow. Well, speak of the devil.

He immediately glances up and meets Lovino's lovely hazel eyes. His eyes weren't just _brown_, but they were speckled with flecks of olive green and amber as well! _Breathtaking. _It was akin a kaleidoscope of warm, earthy colours that somehow felt like home.

"You alright?" The Italian asks, scowling down at him as he stood before the other across the desk. "You were spacing out. It's creepy as fuck."

Then the sun comes out again.

_Just like that._

Antonio couldn't help but feel happy and important because Lovi was finally talking to _him_, of his own accord! He manages to beam at the Vargas twin, though his thoughts from earlier had made the action seem forced.

"I'm fine," he breathes out. _Because you're talking to me._ Then emerald eyes grow tender. "Were you worried about me, Lovi?"

Antonio felt so light-headed; the butterflies in his stomach were fluttering like crazy. Lovino cared! He actually _cared_.

It's funny how something so small and trivial can have the most impact on a person.

But then Lovino turns away, a hint of irritation in the action, though his expression remains indifferent. "Hell no I wasn't. My idiot brother was. He told me to ask you if you were okay. But that doesn't give you the permission to flirt with him, got it?"

And just like that, Antonio's mood came crashing back down to earth.

'It's funny how something so small and trivial can have the most impact on a person.'

…_Exactly_.

So what did Antonio do?

He did what he does best. He faked a smile and acted as if nothing was ever bothering him. Faux naïf.

"Got it."

* * *

"Toni…" Gilbert says for the umpteenth time that day. And it was only lunchtime, so that was saying a lot. He scrutinises the Spaniard carefully; warily— as if Antonio would suddenly make like a Magic 8-Ball and give him all the answers he needed. "Come on! Tell us what's wrong already!"

The aforementioned, who was lost in his thoughts, suddenly snaps out of his trance and turns to face the frustrated German (or self-proclaimed Prussian, rather). Upon hearing the words 'what's wrong', it just— it just triggered something inside of him that made his throat clench and his eyes water with the unshed tears he'd been holding in all day.

It _hurts _to pretend to be happy all the time. It's _hard _pretending that everything is okay, when in fact, they are _not _okay, and Antonio isn't okay either! The Spaniard is just so _overwhelmed _with all of his emotions to the point where he can barely feel a thing at _all_.

It hurts _that _much.

He doesn't want to speak in fear of his emotions finally, _finally _getting the better of him. But that's never stopped the latter from happening before. Antonio had always been easily swayed by his emotions. Heart ruled over reason. He wore his heart on his sleeve, and look at where it's gotten him.

But still, he had to try and make Gilbert understand that nothing relatively grave or serious had happened, and that he was only going through a rough patch again. The constricting of his throat makes it hard for him to say anything, so he swallows the lump in his throat and licks his dry lips.

"It's— It's nothing, Gil, I—" he begins, only to come to an abrupt stop. It sounds pathetic and unconvincing, even to Antonio's ears. He sounds tired and weary. And in a way, he was. Emotions can be very taxing; especially the emotions people didn't want to feel the most. A sigh escapes his lips. "Really. It's nothing."

"But it's not 'nothing'!" Gilbert argues, "You've been acting like this since yesterday! What's up, Tone? Did something happen? It's about _Lovino_, isn't it—"

Gil says Lovino's name like it's a bad word. Antonio doesn't like it.

"I don't want to talk about it." The Spaniard determinedly says, though his voice wavers at the end. "Okay?"

But it was too late.

A tear rolls down his cheek, and he quickly swipes it away with the pad of his thumb before either Gil or Franny notice.

They do.

"What did he do?" Gilbert asks, the accusatory tone of his voice emphasising his German accent. Antonio couldn't help but wince. The albino stands up, already prepared to teach the more despicable of the Vargas twins a lesson. God, why is Lovino always such a fucking jerk? "Don't you worry, Toni, I'll—"

"No, _don't_!" Antonio is quick to say, attracting the attention of some of the students sitting around them in the atrium with the sheer volume of his voice. Shit. "He didn't do anything. So don't— don't worry about it. _Please_."

Gilbert regards him carefully before he sits back down. "Then tell us! Franny and I, we're your friends! We can _help_ you! But we won't be able to do that until you tell us what's got you down in the dumps."

"Oh, Antoine," Francis begins, sighing as he slowly shakes his head. "It's okay to cry. You know that. Now tell us what's happened. You can trust us."

"I _know_, but—" the Spaniard says, pausing to scrub at his eyes. "It doesn't matter. It's stupid anyway."

"It matters enough for you to want to cry." Gilbert points out quietly, frowning at his usually cheerful friend.

He and the Frenchman shared a concerned glance. Perhaps something had happened to Antonio's mother? Or perhaps Antonio got into an argument with his older brother, Alvarez, again. Maybe it was both.

As Antonio wills himself to stop crying, Francis tries to trace back the past few days; past few weeks. Look for any telltale signs that could have led to this— and then it hits him.

It's vague, and it's fuzzy, but he remembers it.

That night at the rathskeller.

Lovino and Allistor.

Together.

And the rumours circulating the campus this morning; the emergence of a new couple in the Performing Arts department. A senior apparently coming out of the closet with a freshman by his side. What are the chances?

As if on cue, Francis glances up and sees Allistor and Lovino walking across the courtyard, hand-in-hand. They're busy talking animatedly. Gilbert and Antonio see them too; everyone who wasn't ogling them this morning were certainly looking at them now. It was _Allistor_, after all. It was a pretty big deal.

Allistor, who never spoke of love or relationships unless they were mentioned by someone else, or in scripts and stories. Allistor, the up-and-coming director that had never been in a relationship with anyone in the EHU, let alone had a fling. Allistor, who was kind to everyone he met.

Allistor, who was now in a relationship with Lovino.

Lovino, who was callous and sharp-tongued; a complete opposite of his twin brother. Lovino, who never entertained any advances from others who dared to back in high school (himself included, to be honest). Lovino, whom Antonio— Francis' best friend— was infatuated with.

Lovino, who was completely unaware he had broken Antonio's heart.

* * *

**Translations:**

_fratello _\- brother (It.)  
_si _\- yes (It.)

**I****'****m sorry for the late update! This chapter was, admittedly, quite a tough cookie to write because:**

**a. it has depressed!Antonio**

**b. it has Lovino actually happy and in love with someone else**

**c. somehow, I had to make it all IC and believable**

**I****'****m pretty sure this fic has more layers than an onion (Shrek reference). I wonder how many people read this fic thinking they were going to get depressed!Lovino, only to get a generous helping of depressed!Antonio. If you didn****'****t see it coming, over the chapters throughout the story, Antonio has displayed the tendency to feign his happiness. That is the ambiguity of sadness.**

**and lastly,**

**d. I did a very stupid thing. I wanted this to be as realistic as possible, so I went through my old journals. And I may or may not have had a nervous breakdown that is still ongoing this moment. I thought I was strong enough to handle it, but I wasn****'****t. **_**PLEASE NEVER DO WHAT I DID OKAY**_

**It****'****s painful writing about things you****'****ve experienced time and time again. But for you guys? I would.**

**~jellydonu16~**

**P.S. Yes, I know there is a difference between sadness and depression. I****'****ve had more than half a decade****'****s worth of experience under my belt for that.**

**P.P.S. Thoughts? What do you think about depressed!Antonio? Sorry if the chapter sucked. And I****'****m sorry if it was too short.**** I****'****ll ****do better next time. I wish I had more to show for the month-long radio silence. As for the prize fic, I****'****ve worked on it a bit, but I can****'****t really get into my A-game like this, so I****'****ll continue once I****'****m better.**

**P.P.P.S. Thank you all for the feedback! You guys inspire me, y'know that?**


	19. nineteen

**A/N: Please read full author's note below.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_**Kicking The Bucket List  
**_**nineteen**

"_**Those who party together, stay together.**_**"  
**—**Alan Ashby**

If Lovino hadn't known that there was this— this really weird societal pecking order at Evergreen Hollows University, then he sure as hell did now.

It was during lunch when the Italian had found out— or realised, rather. While he was occupied with helping out with the props (as per usual), Allistor would every so often find ways to talk to him and drop by whenever he could. But only _this _time, there was this influx of students; be it peers or underclassmen of Allistor's that had decided to drop by _just _to offer the new couple their felicitations.

And by 'couple', he meant Allistor. Like, it didn't take too long for Lovino to pick up on the fact that majority of the people that had come by to greet them _only _greeted Allistor and Allistor only. Not that he minded, no. It merely irked him at first, but then he thought about it more and remembered that he didn't really give a shit.

It was trivial enough. He didn't even _know _these people and he certainly didn't _talk _to them either. These were basically random faces he would see on happenstance bases, just because they happen to go to the same school. So really, it wasn't that much of a big deal.

It's not like they were suddenly going to be the best of friends or anything, _just _because Lovino happened to be in a relationship with Allistor.

So it was just, like, whatever.

* * *

"What do we need, Lov?" Allistor asks later that afternoon, pushing the shopping trolley at a steady pace as he languidly trailed behind his Italian inamorato.

After the two were done with their obligations, the couple had decided to take Lovino's Range Rover to the nearest Whole Foods supermarket so they could go shopping for dinner. They were planning to have dinner with Feliciano at home. Thus, the older Vargas decided to make _risotto ai frutti de mare_; seafood risotto. It was one of his best dishes, if he did say so himself.

He hummed in thought, placing his hands on his hips as he observed the vegetable section. "Okay," he began. "So we already have the arborio rice for the risotto at home."

Allistor comes to a stop beside a crate of organically grown apples, watching in curiosity as Lovino mentally went over his risotto check-list. The Vargas _knew _he knew the recipe like the back of his hand and would normally have a clear idea of what he had at home and what he needed to buy, but with Allistor around, it was a _little _bit harder for him to think straight, let alone fucking _concentrate_.

He casts a quick glance at the redhead, expression deadpan, "I hope you aren't allergic to shellfish or anything. 'Cause that'd really _suck_."

A lilting laugh escapes the Scot's lips— leaving the Italian's heart aflutter merely hearing it— and he gives his boyfriend an easy smile. "Nope! No allergies 'ere, Lov."

Lovino nods, pulling his phone out of his pocket and padding over to one of the crates filled to the brim with green, leafy vegetables. "Good. I'll tell Feliciano to start prepping the antipasto."

Allistor nods in acknowledgement, pushing the cart before him once more to where Lovino is standing.

"I need parsley," Lovino mutters distractedly, brows drawn together as he sent his brother a quick text. Allistor smiled warmly and wrapped his arms around the former's waist, chin propped atop Lovino's shoulder.

**Lovino: Get started on the antipasto already  
****Lovino: Did u make dessert too or should I like  
****Lovino: buy a cake or something idk**

"Are yeh excited for tonight, Lov?" He asks nonchalantly, ignoring the offended and aghast stares of several others near them.

**Feli: Yep! :D Prepping the garlic bread already. I'm making cream puffs! :3  
****Feli: Oh yeah  
****Feli: I forgot to mention  
****Feli: A friend of mine is coming over too okay? :D**

"Yeah," the Italian is quick to answer, face scrunching up into a sour look of distaste. "Feli's inviting one of his stupid friends over to dinner. Ugh."

**Lovino: "forgot" (:  
****Lovino: bullshit :) :)  
****Lovino: give me an earlier heads up next time  
****Lovino: asshole :) :) :)**

In his annoyance, Lovino shut his phone screen close and shoved the phone back into his pocket, ignoring the ping from it that quickly followed.

The redhead quirked an eyebrow up. "So it's like a double date then, Lov?"

"No?!" Lovino couldn't help but exclaim (screech), expression incredulous. A short, sarcastic laugh left his lips. "It's not. _Trust_ me. If this were a 'date'— which it so isn't— Feliciano would tell me."

Then he thought about it a bit more and his frown grew a little more deeper.

"…I think. Like, he _better_. If he doesn't, I'm kicking his ass to hell and back."

"Right," Allistor says, voice taking on a teasing tone. A smile crossed his lips once more as he pressed his lips against the Italian's cheek in a chaste kiss before pulling away, leaving Lovino a flushed, flustered mess.

"Not in public, dammit," the Italian threatened, hazel eyes narrowing as he elbowed the redhead behind him.

A light laugh escapes the Scotsman's lips, drawing his arms away from Lovino's waist. "'Course, Lov."

* * *

It's nearing nightfall by the time Lovino and Allistor get back to the Vargas brothers' apartment; as soon as they enter the spacious penthouse, the scent of garlic is wafting in the air.

A familiar jingle resonates through the living area, cold fear suddenly seizing Lovino's gut like a stab the of a knife, whose arms are full of groceries. He instinctively stiffens, muttering an incredulous 'Oh God' under his breath as he deftly made his way to the living room, heart racing in a mixture of trepidation and dread.

Allistor follows soon after, locking the front door behind him as he made his way to the kitchen, his arms full of groceries as well.

He watches in bemused curiosity as Lovino gawks at the telly, expression absolutely— and Allistor is not exaggerating this, no— _mortified_. The haunting tune confirms the older Vargas' suspicions exactly.

Feliciano is in front of the TV, trying to contact _Nonno _through Skype. Lovino nudges his distracted younger brother with his elbow, adjusting the brown paper bags in his arms.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" Lovino hisses in hushed Italian. He normally would have gesticulated to emphasise and to _express_ his ever-seething anger, but with his arms full of fucking groceries, he couldn't exactly do anything else with his hands other than to, like, fucking hold them and shit.

"Oh, hi, _fratello_!" Feli greets, beaming at his brother before leaning in to peck the elder's cheek.

"Why?" Lovino demands, the pitch of his voice rising as his exasperation grew more and more evident. "Why are you calling _Nonno_?!"

Feliciano smiles at him faux naïf, "Ve~ Why not? It's about time _Nonno_'s met Allistor too, don't you think?"

Lovino narrows his eyes at the younger twin for a moment, as if trying to discern whether or not Feliciano was trying to bullshit him. This— This was some kind of payback for earlier, wasn't it? That bastard!

Just as he's about to open his mouth to retort— _whoomp, there it is_— _Nonno_'s face is all up on the TV screen. The TV was like, 65 inches too, or something. So that was a _lot _of _Nonno_, okay?

The older Vargas instinctively winces. Ugh. _Nonno _had the tendency to lean in too close whenever they were Skyping. It was fucking embarrassing.

"_Ciao_, _Nonno_!" Feliciano greets, beaming at the screen.

"_Hello, Feliciano!" Nonno _guffaws in response. _"How have you been, ah?"_

"…_Ciao_, _Nonno_," Lovino (begrudgingly) mutters as well, rolling his eyes before making his way to the kitchen connected to the living room as Feliciano and grandpa began to animatedly talk in rapid-fire Italian.

Allistor is already busy with unloading the groceries. He offers the disgruntled Italian a small smile. "Who's tha', Lov?"

A deep regretful sigh left Lovino's lips as he set down the groceries before him atop the white marble counter. "_That_? That would be… my grandfather."

As if on cue, the aforementioned's voice rang out throughout the apartment. _"Lovino! Stop hiding from your grandpa and show me your boyfriend!"_

"Fuck—" Lovino hisses, voice raising several octaves in pitch once more. He places his hands down on the counter, head bowed in thought. Dammit. Feli is _so dead_.

Fingers drumming against the cool marble, he quickly glances up to face the Scotsman, only to find that he wasn't even in the fucking kitchen anymore.

Well, shit.

_**Shit.**_

The Italian made his way to the living room post-haste, _just _in time to see Allistor courteously wave at the TV screen with fucking _Nonno _staring him down, leaning in even _closer _to the goddamn camera to squint at his boyfriend.

Something akin a strangled cry escaped Lovino's lips as _Nonno _hummed in thought, brows furrowed and jaw set.

After several moments of awkward silence, the _first _thing he said to break the nerve-wracking tension was, _"Why is he so white?"_

"Oh my God, _Nonno_, you can't just ask people why they're _white_!" Lovino was quick to cut in, snapping out of his trance to stand in front of his— admittedly pale, yeah— Scottish boyfriend.

"Oh, no, it's quite alright!" Allistor says anyway, smiling at the camera. "Ah'd be lying if Ah said it was th' first time Ah was asked tha'. It's a pleasure ta meet yeh, sir. My name is Allistor!"

_Nonno _gave another thoughtful hum, rubbing his stubbled chin as he drew back a fraction from the camera (_thank you God_). _"A Scottish brogue. Interesting. So _you're _the one who's finally won Lovino's heart, ah?"_

Almost immediately, the aforementioned Italian's face couldn't help but flush fifty shades of crimson as he brought his hands hands up to his burning cheeks. "_Nonno_, _per l'amore di Dio_, _please _shut up. God, why do you have to be so embarrassing?"

"_What? 'Embarrassing'?" Nonno_ echoed. Hoe don't do it. _"I'm not embarrassing! I'm a cool grandpa! Isn't that right, Feliciano?"_

"…Oh my God."

"_So Allistor! C'mere and tell me more about yourself!"_

"You know you don't have to do this, right?" Lovino says to the redhead, turning to face him. And by 'you don't have to do this', he automatically meant, 'don't'.

"No, it's fine! Ah want to!" Allistor coaxes in a reassuring tone, the words themselves in no fucking way actually _reassuring _him.

Exasperated, embarrassed and 100% done with life, Lovino threw his hands up in surrender and made his way to the kitchen. "You know what? Whatever. I don't care anymore. I have dinner to cook, dammit."

As such, he deftly began to prepare the ingredients. He cleaned and diced the assortment of Mediterranean seafood, as well as the vegetables he had bought. Then he started to prepare the stock using the seafood. Thankfully, Feliciano had gone ahead and made one of the antipasti; garlic bread with mozzarella cheese and chopped basil leaves.

He brought out a large sauté pan and placed it on the stove over medium heat. Once it was hot enough, he poured in a splash of olive oil and added a cupful of chopped onions. He seasoned it with salt and pepper and stirred it around with a wooden spoon and letting it sizzle on the pan.

He alternated with preparing the salad as an additional appetiser, breaking escarole, chicory and romaine lettuce after a quick yet thorough rinse. He tossed the greens about in the clear glass bowl, setting it aside.

Lovino then added some minced garlic and parsley in the pan. When that was done, he finally added in the mixture of cooked seafood in and reduced the heat, letting it simmer for a few minutes. He added a cupful of dry white wine and cooked it until it evaporated, then added a bit more pepper. The Italian poured in the arborio rice, stirring gently, and cooked it until the rice began to change colour. He added a cup of seafood stock and cooked it over moderate heat until it had been absorbed by the rice. He added the remaining five cups of stock, a cup at a time, until the stock is gone and the rice tender.

During times like these, Lovino often preferred to work alone, cooking at his own pace and completely engrossed in what he put his mind to.

Yeah, sure, cooking could be hectic as fuck. But somehow, Lovino managed to make it work! He cooked with the finesse and speed of a seasoned chef. If there was _one _thing he liked other than writing, it'd definitely be cooking.

Maybe, perhaps, it would've been more reasonable for him to take gastronomy— but that means he'd have to work as a chef. That means he'd have to spend all day surrounded by food he can't eat, because he's cooking it for other people.

And let's be serious here.

That's just plain torture.

So, no; no to gastronomy, _period_.

While he was stirring the rice around, Feli came in at one point so he could check on the dessert.

"I think _Nonno _really likes Allistor, Lovi!" Feliciano starts, smiling as he examined the cooling sfinge de San Guiseppe set aside on a tray before he began to cut the tops of the puffs off, and filling them in with a cheese filling. He garnished them with maraschino cherries and strips of candied orange peel afterwards. "They're talking about that time _Nonno _went to Scotland with his friends for a wedding!"

Lovino snorted, adding in the butter, cream, Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese and green onions. He stirred it around, the risotto taking on a delightfully creamy texture. Perfection. He decided to let it simmer for two more minutes before going around the kitchen to set the dirty dishes in the sink. "That time he almost got arrested?"

A light laugh escaped the younger's lips, "Yep! That's the one."

The older twin merely nods in response before his eyebrows furrow in remembrance. "Oi. Is your friend still coming over?"

"Yeah?"

"Then what's taking the guy so long, dammit?"

"Oh. Luddy still has classes at the moment—"

"Who the fuck is '_Luddy_'? The fuck kinda name is _that_?"

Something akin a weary sigh left Feliciano's lips. "You know, _fratello_, I'm pretty sure we've had this conversation before."

"Really?" Lovino paused momentarily, poring over that for a moment. A second later, he goes back to the stove to stir the risotto around before turning the heat off. "I don't remember. Whatever."

"Well, don't worry. You'll meet him later!"

"Right." The older Vargas sets the spoon down after tapping it against the edge of the pan several times.

Shortly after that, the twins go about setting the table and preparing the plates. Lovino finishes up the salad by drizzling over it with vinaigrette and tossing in a cupful of garlic croutons. Allistor is still busy talking to _Nonno_. Lovino can only hope that the dysfunctionality of his family doesn't _completely _scare the Scotsman away.

* * *

…'Luddy'.

What words could be used to describe 'Luddy'?

He was buff, for one. Built like a fucking fridge. Lovino nearly went into cardiac arrest the moment he opened the goddamn door, a hand reflexively reaching out for one of the umbrellas by the front door. The kid was he and Feliciano's age, apparently, and yet he looked like he beat people up for fun, or like some sort of bouncer for a sketchy Russian nightclub or something.

He beat the shit out of puberty, _that's _for sure.

'Luddy' was also blond. Very blond. His hair was pretentiously slicked back (with what Lovino could only assume to be globs and globs of hair gel) like the anal-retentive rulebook and student handbook-licker Lovino could just _tell _he was.

And— And the way Feliciano fucking _looked _at him! Ugh.

_**Ugh.**_

Gross.

Lovino did not like it, no. Nope. No. Not _one bit_.

Feli looked at the German like he put the stars in the sky or something, or like he was the creator of pasta. His honey brown eyes were practically fucking _sparkling_ with 'happiness~!' and 'joy~!'

_Bullshit_.

Ah, it was a classic case of hate at first sight. And if you don't think that hate at first sight is real, and that love at first sight is the only thing that matters, then you're wrong and you should just stop. The Italian hadn't said a word to this— this '_Luddy_' person yet, and he already _hated _him.

"I'm sorry I'm late. My class ran a little late today and I tried to get here as soon as I could," the aforementioned apologised, something the German had probably rehearsed ten times over in his head while coming over here. A grunt left his lips as Feliciano practically— no, _literally_— flung himself into the blond's arms and enveloped him in a hug.

It merely intensified the flames of Lovino's burning hatred. He wasn't sure himself how he could hate someone this much from just meeting them, but if there was _one _thing the inner cynic in him knew, it was that he always had room for hate in his heart. His blood ran as cold as ice despite the inferno of his internal rage. Yet still, he tried to keep his composure calm and collected, and even managed to force a wry-looking grin (read: grimace) on his face!

"Hello," 'Luddy' says, politely stretching a hand out for Lovino to shake, as if Feliciano didn't have his arms wrapped around the German's torso like an anaconda asphyxiating its prey. "My name is Ludwig. You must be Lovino. A pleasure."

The corner of Lovino's lip twitched upwards in annoyance, hazel eyes narrowed as he shook the German's had in a vice-like grip (which may or may not have left his own hand aching). "Huh. If only I could say the same."

Feliciano gasps in shock, drawing his arms off and away from the blond and lightly elbowing his brother's side. "_Fratello_!" He chastises, all but a tincture of actual threat hidden in his otherwise blithe and saccharine tone. "Be _nice_."

As hazel eyes meet honey brown ones, there's an unreadable expression on Lovino's face as he smiles back at his twin. He won't _be _nice, but sure. He can play nice no problem.

Maybe.

"Are you fucking kidding me? I'm one of the nicest motherfuckers on the block!" He says, then shifting his gaze to the towering German before him. "Ludwig. I'll call you Ludwig."

* * *

Dinner was awkward and tense.

Mostly awkward, but still very tense.

…Actually, no. It was the fucking _epitome _of awkward. Never has Lovino _ever _experienced this much awkwardness at a dinner table, and he's had Christmas dinner with _Nonno _and all his ex-girlfriends before! It really sucked, he supposed. There shouldn't be so much _hate _at the dinner table; especially in front of all this amazing food.

(Never mind the fact that he was the main instigator of the hate in the first place.)

Despite the wonderful seafood risotto, the antipasti to match, and the crisp white wine that went perfectly with all of it, Lovino was still pissed.

Seriously! Who _is _this guy, right? Where the hell did he even come from? The kid takes engineering while Feli takes art. They're in a huge ass school, how did they even _meet _in the first place?!

Never mind that the _exact same_ could be said for Lovino's own inamorato, no! _Fuck you_, this was _clearly _different!

Despite the older Vargas' awareness of his hypocrisy— which made him even more of a hypocrite, now that you think about it— he couldn't help but direct a handful of scathing jabs towards the German through passive-aggressive remarks (read: throwing shade).

Feliciano had picked up on it, however, and kicked Lovino's shin underneath the table several times throughout their meal. It indirectly fuelled Lovino's inner troll, and thus, inadvertently fuelled the onslaught of pseudo-insults further.

For example:

"Ludwig, would you like more salad? Oh, wait. Don't stress yourself out. I'll get some for you instead, so don't you worry~. Your poor little brain must be hurting from all that _math_!"

Or maybe, perhaps:

"So what do you like to do in your spare time? Do you have a part-time job as a bouncer? Or maybe you collect rulebooks and postal stamps!"

Let's not forget the classic:

"How many tubs of hair gel do you go through everyday? _Dio_, your hair looks _so tough_. Not a hair out of place. Must be one hell of a bitch to wash out, huh? I bet you order your hair gel in boxes. You do, don't you? You're like anti-L'oreal. They must really hate you, huh?"

The barrage of questions had left the German a tad flustered and bemused. There was just something… _off _with how Lovino spoke. Like there was something more to be read in the context of things. Or maybe not. Maybe it was just how the Italian was! Maybe, perhaps, Ludwig was reading into it too much. Hmm.

* * *

"Hey," Lovino breathed out, smirking as his Scottish boyfriend as he led the latter to his bedroom door. "Let's talk here. Feli and Ludwig are cleaning up, anyway."

"'Course, luv," Allistor obliges, following Lovino into his room.

Lovino holds the door to the room open, a hand automatically reaching up to flick the light switch on. His expression turns sheepish as he kicks a stray Adidas sneaker away. "Sorry about the mess and shit," he half-heartedly apologises, letting the other in.

Allistor steps inside Lovino's domain, glancing around the room observantly. Save for the several items of clothing randomly strewn around the floor, the room itself was relatively clean and quite simple— and, to be honest, somewhat _sparse_— in terms of décor. There was a queen-sized bed tucked into one corner of the room, with a bedside table and a desk beside it.

He languidly makes his way to the centre of the rom, wondering how Lovino usually went about his day when he was at home.

Meanwhile, Lovino had shut the door closed, and Feliciano's lilting laughter and Ludwig's baritone chatter had been reduced to naught but faint muffles, almost inaudible. With the room pregnant with silence, a growing… _tension_ of sorts had followed its wake as Lovino sauntered over to the redhead, heart rapidly beating against his chest. He could feel his cheeks burning, and he was very sure that they were a bright red.

Allistor turned to face him and smiled, wrapping his arms around the latter's waist and pulling him in 'til they were chest-to-chest.

"Thanks for tonight," he says, voice low. He nuzzles his boyfriend's cheek before softly kissing it. A shaky breath left Lovino's lips as he, too, reached up and wrapped his arms around the redhead's torso as well, heartbeat palpitating; face reddening; mind spinning. Then he glances up.

And hazel meets forest green.

Lovino reached up to cup the Scotsman's cheek, feeling dizzy with how _strongly _he felt for the other. He wasn't entirely sure if it was frisson, or something much _more_… something _deeper_. But in that moment, he knew— he just knew— that what he was feeling was genuine and it was real, and that it wouldn't fade away so easily, no.

Their minds were now set upon the same path, and their bodies moved perfectly in sync with one another. Lovino gently nudged Allistor in the general direction of the bed and, almost obsequiously, the Scotsman followed, stumbling back onto the soft mattress before making himself comfortable. He sits up slightly as the Italian approaches him. Lovino leans in and presses their lips together in a chaste kiss once, twice. A soft sigh escapes Allistor's lips as he pulls the Italian right on top of him.

Lovino deepens the kiss as Allistor slowly, _teasingly _runs the tip of his tongue along the Italian's bottom lip, asking for permission to which the other immediately granted.

Maybe, perhaps, the odd couple had progressed far too quickly in their relationship compared to other couples. Chances are, they have. They've already made out before, so maybe that was why none of them bothered taking it slow. And with the electric chemistry they had, plus some poor self-restraint, they only craved and longed for the presence of one another.

Amidst their osculations, growing more and more heated as time lapsed, Allistor managed to flip Lovino over and pinned him down to the bed, a fieriness in him coming to light; a stark contrast to his gentle nature. Hands were wandering everywhere and anywhere within hand's reach, be it down delicate sides, the curvature of one's spine, or over the line of one's shoulders.

Truly, there was nothing in that moment keeping them apart from one another.

The other side of the door seemed like a world away from where they were. Reality could not touch them because they had each other.

Allistor slid his hands up Lovino's shirt, caressing the smooth skin, creamy in colour under the luminescence of the soft flavescent lights. Every single touch left a scorching heat that trailed along Lovino's body, leaving him wanting more; _craving _more, be it the kisses shared between them or the one kissing him himself.

The redhead pulls away and leans down to sink his teeth into the junction between the brunette's neck and shoulder, a soft moan escaping the latter's lips as he brought his hands up to fiery scarlet locks, tangling his fingers in them and lightly tugging near the roots.

His bedroom felt more and more like a furnace. Lovino tugged at the hem of Allistor's button-down, where the other quickly caught on and obliged, pulling away momentarily so he could undo the first few buttons from the top.

Lovino sat up as well, pulling his shirt off and revealing rather taut and firm skin, lean with muscle in all the right places and slick with sweat. He was about to ball the article of clothing up and toss it somewhere over Allistor's shoulder, until a knock on the door had instantly paralysed them both. It was much like a slap to the face that had successfully brought them out of their little world.

The two instantly grew rigid in shock, then panic. It only took them another split second to recover as Lovino shoved Allistor away lest Feliciano open the door, the both of them trying to fix their rumpled clothing.

"_Fratello_! Luddy's gone now. He went home!"

"S-Sure, just wait a second, dammit!" Lovino stammers, voice oddly high in pitch as he stood up and tugged the shirt down before stumbling over to the door. He runs a hand through his hair in effort to _not _make it seem elegantly dishevelled for once; but in effort to at _least _make it seem like he hadn't been making out with his boyfriend for, like, the past twenty-five or so minutes.

He threw the door open and glared at Feliciano. "So? What do you want?"

The younger twin, having more than a hunch as to what the couple had been up to all along, smiled faux naïf. "Ve~ Well, since Luddy left already, I thought we could just sit on the couch with a bottle of wine and talk some more!"

Lovino knit his brows together, honestly at a loss for words.

"No more alcohol for me, thanks," Allistor says easily, coming up from behind Lovino and looking like he had just rolled out of bed (which he had). "Ah'm driving an' Ah don't want ta take any chances."

He then glanced down at his wristwatch and nodded, walking out to the corridor. "Ah suppose Ah should get going now. Ah'm afraid it's getting quite late now, innit?"

"Yeah," Lovino concurs a bit too quickly. "You should— you should, y'know,"

"Go," Allistor supplies, face a bit flushed as he smiled at the Italian.

"…Yeah." The older Italian says again. "Go."

"So soon?" Feliciano asks, quirking an eyebrow up, mischief alighting his amber eyes. "Don't let us keep you though! You should get some rest! I'm sure you're _very_ _tired_ by now—"

Lovino fakes a loud cough before pushing Allistor in the general direction of the door. "I agree. You should probably go, yes."

Allistor laughs as the twins walk him to the front door. "Dinner was absolutely wonderful, thanks so much," he says, opening the door and stepping out. He smiles at the both of them before he bids them a goodnight.

"I'll see you tomorrow morning, Lov?" The Scot asks, smiling at him.

"Obviously, yeah," Lovino deadpans, rolling his eyes. Allistor kisses Lovino's forehead before he steps back and makes his way to the sole elevator a bit down the corridor.

The Italian watches his inamorato retreat, unaware of the smile on his face. It warms Feliciano's heart to see his brother so happy, but first things first—

Feliciano clears his throat, drawing the attention of his twin. He crosses his arms and puts on a brave face.

"_Fratello_. We need to talk."

Lovino gulped, accepting his fate and closing the door behind him. Maybe he can open the aforementioned bottle of wine. After all, it's easier dealing with life when you're a little tipsy. Same could be said for one of Feliciano's long sermons and lamentations. Why bother trying to take it all in sober when you don't give a shit, right?

* * *

Before Lovino knew it, it was already Friday. He and his friends were hanging around the Performing Arts Department after a quick lunch, then set about doing the usual. Making props; carrying stuff around; doing whatever was asked of them. They all ran errands, basically. Those in the higher years— or those who are actually part of the production— would have more _worthwhile _duties.

"Say," Bella pipes up at one point, picking at the lint on one of the costumes to be ironed before her. "You know what'd be _really cool_?"

"What?" Michelle absentmindedly asks, distracted with going through one of her friends' stories on Snapchat.

"If we had a sleepover!"

"'A sleepover'?" Lovino echoes from beside her, knitting his brows together.

"Yep!" The Belgian nods, beaming at him. "And, no, crashing at a friend's house because you were drinking too much that night doesn't count."

Lovino frowned at her, clearly offended. "Oh, fuck you."

"Well, it's true!" She argues in the midst of bouts of laughter. "No, seriously guys. It'd be _so fun_. We can, like, have a movie marathon, order some pizza, and do each other's makeup!"

(Lovino inconspicuously scooted away from her a fraction upon hearing the words 'do each other's makeup'.)

Bella then turns to Lovi and places her hand on his shoulder. "_And _we can have a few drinks!"

Ah, yes. Alcohol is the incentive if you want Lovino to do anything, ever. That or being Bella Janssens.

Lovino rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah."

"When are we, like, going to sleepover anyway?" Feliks says, momentarily glancing up at Bella before returning majority of his focus to his phone.

She hums in contemplation, bringing the dress down to her lap. "Hmm. How about tonight?"

Lovino raises an eyebrow at her. "Tonight? Really?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"Isn't that, like, too soon or something..?"

"Why, do you have another date with Allistor?"

The question itself was innocent enough, and there was no malice in Bella's tone, yet Lovino couldn't help but find it a tad bit accusing.

"No," Lovino answers quickly, brows knit together.

"Then what's the problem?" Bella asks once more. "Come on, it'll be fun! Sleepovers don't even require that much planning!"

Lovino stares at her long and hard for several seconds before averting his gaze and throwing his hands up in exasperation. "You know what? _Fine._ I'll go. Whatever."

"Yay!" Bella exclaims, wrapping her arms around his neck. "How 'bout you guys? It'll be so much fun, I'll order lots of takeout!"

* * *

That afternoon, Allistor and Lovino went to Starbucks. Allistor ordered his usual caffeine fix of black coffee, whilst Lovino ordered himself a piping hot caramel macchiato. As the two settled themselves in their usual spot— on the plush leather seats by the door, beside the window— the redhead habitually put in five packets of sugar and four creamers, Lovino absentmindedly noted.

"So Lov," Allistor starts, stirring the coffee around. "Ah've got _great _news! A friend of mine invited me to th' opening of 'is new club tomorrow night!"

"Oh yeah?" Lovino asks, nonchalance in his tone as he languidly poked at the melting whipped cream dissolving into his coffee with the end of his wooden stirrer. "And?"

The Scot's expression turns sheepish, the tops of his cheeks dusted with a light, subtle red. He licks his lips and scoots closer to his Italian before he speaks again. "So Ah were just wondering if… yeh'd like ta come with?"

Ever predictable, Lovino's cheeks begin to redden in the likewise manner as the other's. "So, like—"

"Ah jus' thought it'd be fun for us ta do," Allistor interjects a smidgen too quickly, inadvertently cutting the latter off.

Lovino licks his lips before slowly nodding his head. "Sure! I mean, why not, right?"

"Drinks are on him! Ah forgot ta mention."

"Even _better_."

* * *

Countless bags of Doritos, Cheetos, chips and dips of all kinds covered the hardwood floor of Bella's room as the squad settled in for their impromptu sleepover that night. Bedecked in onesies, Lovino and his friends were busying themselves with preparing the movies, the makeup, and— of course— the drinks.

Lovino and Bella were downstairs, raiding the fridge for drinks. They brought out a few cans of iced tea, a couple of wine coolers, a box of Capri Sun, and even a few cans of beer!

Henri (Bella's younger brother) came down at one point though, probably to grab a bag of trail mix before another one of his hardcore studying sessions. The brunette eyed the older two in the room with disdain as they tried carrying as much of the drinks as they could. Nobody wanted to make another trip down!

"_What_?" Bella asks, raising an eyebrow at her brother.

Henri shrugs before sauntering over to the pantry, "Nothing, nothing."

Lovino and Bella look at each other for a moment before the latter eventually shrugs it off and smiles at him. "C'mon, let's go up!"

And so, the two jogged up the stairs, glass bottles clinking against each other as they hurried to Bella's bedroom, where everyone else was.

Elizabeta and Michelle were still going through the movies on Bella's hard drive, planning the lineup of their movie marathon while Feliks was in the middle of taking a selfie to upload on his Instagram.

"We're back!" Bella says, kneeling down on the floor so she could carefully set the bottles and cans down.

"Ooh, what'd you guys bring?" Liz asks, turning towards them to look at the drinks. She nods in approval. "Nice. So do we watch movies now or..?"

Bella nods, opening a bag of Doritos. "Yep! What're we watching?"

"_Clueless_," Michelle says, grinning at the blond.

* * *

"Come on," Gil says, giving Antonio a hearty pat on the back. "Cheer up already, Tone! It's a Friday night, _live a little_! You'll get over him soon enough. You'll see. He isn't even worth your time!"

The corner of Antonio's lip twitches in response, a gleam of annoyance expertly hidden within the depths of his emerald green eyes. He fakes a smile. "Ahaha! Easier said than done. You have to understand, _mi amigo_, that these types of things aren't exactly… _easy _to get over."

It is then when Gilbert's expression turns incredulous, practically screaming out, 'Are you fucking _kidding me_?' Because ironically enough, Antonio's Shifts, more often than not, had the tendency to fizzle to nothing at the drop of a hat.

"When did _you_ become a love guru all of a sudden?" Gilbert can't help but ask, snorting at the very Spaniard that was quick to get over his infatuations; he always had. Lovino should be no different, right?

Antonio smiles faux naïf. "I'm not."

And he wasn't.

* * *

"Hey, Bel," Feliks starts, eyes trained on his left foot as he painted his toenails a pristine matte white. "Tell Lovino about your date with _yoghurt boy_."

Bella stills, blanching at the computer screen before turning to face Feliks, an unreadable expression on her face. In reaction to the Belgian's peculiar silence, Lovino stops texting Allistor for a moment and looks up at her, bemusement on his features. "'Yoghurt boy'?" He echoes.

Her expression sheepish, she smiles at him and chuckles nervously. "Yeah… His name is Aleksander."

"Sounds sketchy."

"He's the guy from Holy Trinity."

"Oh. I remember. 'Yoghurt boy' though?"

"Mhmm." Bella nods slowly. "He's very… _fond _of frozen yoghurt?"

"That's not the only yoghurt he likes—" Liz pipes up, a smug grin plastered on her face.

"Liz! No!" The Belgian exclaims in pure mortification, covering her face in embarrassment.

"What?" Lovino asks. "The fuck are you two talking about?"

"Well, uh, Aleksander is kinda— uh—" Bella stammers and stumbles on her words, efforts all for naught as Michelle cuts in.

"We all think he's gay." Says the Seychellois bluntly, shrugging her shoulders.

Still, Lovino had yet to piece the two and two together. "So, like, if he's _gay_, then why did he ask you out on a date?"

"Uh," Bella sighs. "I don't know. I guess I misinterpreted it or something."

"Covert gay," Elizabeta comments. The others concur. "He goes to Holy Trinity after all. Kinda like you back in high school."

The Italian rolls his eyes. "I wasn't _covert gay_. I never tried to hide jack shit. Maybe it's because no one was ever good enough for me."

Feliks snorted. "Remember when that Gilbert kid got pissed when you turned down his 'awesome date'?"

A sound of aggravation leaves Lovino's lips. "Ugh, I know, right? He's still a prick. Even worse, Feli still talks to him. Fucking gross. After I rejected him, he went after Feliciano instead. So I punched him in the face. Fucker. _Anyways_, how'd you know he was gay?"

Everyone looks at Bella for several moments before she lets out a resigned sigh. "Oh, alright. Story time. So Aleksander and I are at this restaurant, right? Everything's going okay so far. The Spark's not really there yet— thank God—"

Eliza bursts out laughing.

"But that's fine! We're just chilling, talking. Good vibes. _Then_, we go grab some froyo after dinner. _That's _when I started to get this really weird gut feeling that something was totally off about this dude! 'Cause he _knows _I go to EHU, right? So he starts grilling me, asking if I know this guy from Romania— totally forget his name, ugh— because apparently, he goes to EHU too! You should've seen this guy! He literally would _not _shut up about him! Like, holy shit, this is like a— like an _obsession _already! Oh my God!"

Liz, 'Chelle and Feliks were in hysterics now. _Dio_, what gives? Lovino furrows his brows together. Why were they laughing so hard? It was a date gone bad, right? Was there something he'd missed?

Upon seeing Lovino's confusion amidst teary eyes, Liz wraps her arm around Lovino's shoulders— much to the Italian's irritation— and leant in close. "Do you _know _why it's so funny?" She asks in between bouts of laughter. "It's 'cause Michelle, Bella and I are the same. We're fag hags. You'd think Bella's gaydar would know a gay guy when she sees one."

Bella rolls her eyes, playfully shoving Liz back. "Oh, shut up, Liz!"

* * *

"I got you something," Bella says to Lovino.

They're the only ones awake.

The room is quiet.

The movie marathon had come to an end, and Elizabeta, Feliks and Michelle were all sleeping on either Bella's bed or on the plush pink carpet Bella had rolled out earlier.

"Yeah?" Lovino prompts, staring at the small bottle of Evian he'd poured pink lemonade concentrate in earlier. He twists the cap open and takes another sip from the lukewarm drink before putting the cap back on again.

Bella rummages through her bedside table and pulls a tube out. She hands it over to Lovino, who takes it and eyes it curiously. "The fuck is this?"

The blond smiles. "It's a concealer stick!"

Lovino rolls his eyes. "I know what it is," he traces his thumb underneath the labelling of the Maybelline cosmetic. "Why the hell are you giving this to me?"

"Because hickeys," she says simply, her smile widening into a grin as Lovino's face flushed crimson.

The Vargas twin sputters out an incomprehensible mix of Italian and English, honestly at a loss for words. J-Just— Just first and foremost: _why_? Just… why? Lovino's hand instinctively flies up to his neck, suddenly all too conscious of the love bites that once adorned his neck… they _were _gone, right? _Surely_, they were. He and Allistor haven't… y'know… since the first time they… yeah.

"Oh, don't worry. You don't have any hickeys right _now_, but…" she continues, expression turning a tad sheepish. "It's so you don't have to wear sweaters and hoodies to school anymore. Especially when it's, like, so hot out. You know how to use it, right? It's just concealer."

Lovino squints at her warily for a moment, then turns his attention to the stick in his hand. "Uh."

She giggles, pulling the cover stick out of his grasp. "Come on, I'll show you how to use it." Bella breaks the safety plastic off of the tube and pops it open. She tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear before scooting closer to him.

"Okay. So pretend that you have a hickey over here," she points at a certain spot on the side of his neck. "You'd have to be in front of a mirror for this, but I'll do it for you just to show you what you should do."

She begins to instruct him on how to use a cover stick. She first brushes Lovino's hair away from his neck and dabs a bit of the concealer right on the spot. He could either blend it in with his fingers or with a sponge, but with a sponge, it'll look more blended. There's also a different type of BB cream, she says, but it comes in a narrow tube and he'd need to dab a small amount on his hand first before applying it onto his skin.

At some point, the two wound up on Bella's balcony, just staring at the vast estate. The cool night air nipped at Lovino's fingers, but other than that, thanks to his onesie, he was pretty warm and toasty, like a fresh bagel from Starbucks. Bella leans over the balcony's railing, a sigh escaping her lips. Lovino initially dismisses it as a sigh of content; at least until Bella sighs again. He turns to face her, quirking an eyebrow up.

"What's wrong?" He asks her.

She shrugs her shoulders, her expression sombre. "I don't know… Stuff, I guess."

He scoots a bit closer to her. "What kind of stuff?"

The Belgian smiles before slowly shaking her head. "A lot. It's just— It's hard, y'know? It's like after _all this time_, I still have no idea what I want, or who I am anymore."

Lovino furrows his brows together. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know, I— I think I just feel lost. Very, very lost." She says slowly; uncertainly— as if treading upon a walkway of eggshells.

The older Vargas nods in understanding, eyes fluttering shut as he breathed in the fresh air. "It's okay to not know who you are," he begins to rationalise, running his fingers through his hair as he glances back at her. "It's okay— _perfectly _okay— to not know what you want. Like, life didn't come with a set of instructions. We all pave our own paths in this world. Either that, or live life following the footsteps of another."

A breathless chuckle escapes his lips as he glances down at his arms and tersely shakes his head, as if dispelling all the dangerous thoughts on the verge of fomenting within the recesses of his mind. But it was easier said than done, now that he had begun to think about it.

"And this is coming from _me _of all people. Me. The kid who has _no idea_ of what'll happen to him—" A shaky exhale. "—after college."

"Hey," Bella says, elbowing him lightly. "You're a really great writer! You'll do great, I swear. When we graduate, I bet you'll be this really famous author or screenwriter. Then you'll make lots and lots of movies and plays. And I'll be acting in them! And Feliks, and Michelle. Maybe Liz can be the one manning the camera."

Lovino manages to recover a façade of nonchalance as he smiles back, albeit it was a rather small one. This was about Bella. He didn't want to make this about him. It was a rarity Bella ever showed sadness, and Lovino wanted to be there for her if and when she needed it. "Hey. I'm the one who's supposed to be doing the cheering up here."

She giggles. "I know."

He snorts. "Well, is it working so far?"

"I'd say it's good _enough_. You're well on your way there." Bella says, smiling growing a little more wider.

"It's a fucking miracle. This is the first time in forever my social skills haven't completely disappointed someone."

"Ooh, and Allistor?"

Lovino's face reddens.

"What about him? T-This is about you, remember? So don't change the subject, dammit—"

"Sure~"

"Oh, shut up. Let's head to bed, I have so much shit to do tomorrow."

"Mm. I guess we really should—" a yawn. "—turn in. Night, Lovi~"

"Yeah. Goodnight to you too, Bella."

* * *

The Black Box was once an abandoned warehouse of sorts. For years, the building remained desolate and decrepit until a recent entrepreneurship graduate of Evergreen Hollows University, a Turk whose name was Sadik Adnan, found opportunity for renascence in the structure, whereas many others had turned it away and deemed it a lost cause for it'd cost too much to have it renovated in the first place. It simply wasn't worth the time, money, or effort.

Sadik, born of an affluent family from a long line of oil barons, had used a sum of his vast wealth in order to purchase the warehouse, as well as the land surrounding it. Shortly after his graduation, he collaborated with an architect who had also graduated from Evergreen Hollows University that same year; an Egyptian named Gupta Muhammad Hassan.

Others had looked upon the risky business choice in disdain; _surely_ Sadik wouldn't have had any trouble in buying a lot in a nightlife hotspot such as New York or California, so why did he decide to open a swanky nightclub in what was generally an uneventful city?

Maybe, perhaps, it was some ingrained impulse within him to do it. He was a risk-taker. He thrived off of gambling over stock and trade in the market, and had a keen eye for business, especially at such a young age. Already, the Turk was a force to be reckoned with, making his own name in the nightlife business and breaking out of the long line of oil barons that have preceded him.

He was quite an eccentric individual; one, more often than not, misunderstood by those who didn't know him very well. Though he is brash or irrational on occasion, and may even come across as a bully of sorts, he is very most often found in good humour, his thundering guffaws once a constant in EHU's hallowed halls.

He had made many friends in the various social circles of the campus; of course, including those in the Performing Arts Department!

Once the renovations for the nightclub of his dreams had reached completion, the very first thing Sadik did was call up and invite all of his friends from his alma mater to come and party with him! Think of it as a reunion of sorts.

Despite the unlikely spot, partly thanks to his family name, word of its grand opening had spread throughout social media circles like wildfire and prompted an influx of B and C-list celebrities to fly over for the opening of the club. There would be press and paparazzi there, which thus meant exposure. Which was good for the new venture! Sadik needed the Black Box to start out strong to ensure that the nightclub would have a place on the maps in the industry.

* * *

The Black Box was something of simple design. Some called it innovative. Others called it thoughtful. The rest— especially those who didn't possess such fustian mindsets— called it a no-brainer.

It was fashioned out of a warehouse, and thus, Sadik found it only reasonable for it to be styled _after _a warehouse. It didn't dawdle or dwell on unnecessary details or décor, when the very structure spoke volumes for itself.

Lovino and Allistor had arrived at the Black Box around eight PM in style. They stepped out of the sleek, black stretch limousine they and a few others from the EHU had rented just for the occasion. Since it was quite an event, a red carpet was rolled out, where several starlets and musicians could be seen either shielding their eyes from the flashes of photographers' cameras, or strutting their stuff. It drew publicity both ways, after all.

Fingers laced, the couple hurriedly made their way to the building whereas majority of their companions opted to soak up their instant fifteen minutes of fame.

Not even halfway down the carpet, Lovino could already hear the bass thumping from outside the building. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he found himself giddy with anticipation.

It wasn't the first time he'd been at a club, but this'd be his first time at a club with someone as a _date_, which was pretty fucking awesome when you've been drunkenly krumping alone for so long! As soon as they passed the steel double-doors (with scarily intimidating bouncers to match), the music grew louder exponentially, every bass line in the music thumping through the hollow of his chest, sending adrenaline rushing through his veins.

In a flurry of people and flashing strobe lights of all colours, he found himself sitting at one of the tables in the VIP area overlooking the dancefloor. A waiter came by and took their orders, and this guy wearing a mask came around and introduced himself as Sadik Adnan. He lingered for a while, made small talk before excusing himself to greet one of the socialites that had finally come in.

Lovino stares at his apple martini, swirling it around in its glass, absentmindedly nodding his head to the beat of the music. He sings the words under his breath as the others are talking. He is brought out of his reverie when Allistor lightly touches his elbow and smiles at him.

"Lov, yeh wanna dance?" He asks, grinning at his Italian lover.

Lovino smirks before setting his drink down. "I don't see why not."

Together, the couple make their way down to the first floor where the dancefloor has come to life. There's a celebrity DJ from Netherlands manning the turntables, build-up to the bass drop impelling the partygoers to let go of their inhibitions and dance. Same could be said for Lovino, who already finished a mojito prior ordering an apple martini. He could feel the faint edges of a good buzz creeping in, and paired with good vibes, great music and wonderful people, he was in for a night to remember.

Allistor pushed through the crowd, Lovino's hand in his, and led them to the very middle of the dancefloor, where everyone was jumping up and down to the music. Just as the bass drops (_Pray to God _by Calvin Harris feating HAIM, go figure, right?), the both of them dance along to the music, soaking up the enthusiasm of those around them.

And Lovino can't help but smile, he couldn't help himself from not smiling even if he _wanted _to. Just being with Allistor made him so— so _happy_, how could he not? It made him feel like he was _whole _in a way. Like he could actually be a better person; one better than the callous, capricious prick many others have made him out to be.

Like he _wasn't _a lost cause.

Like, somehow, Allistor saw something… something _good _inside of him that made him want to stay. Stick around for a bit.

Like Lovino could actually be this sort of life-changing individual who impacts the lives of others as much as they've impacted his— in a _positive _way.

It was a terrifying thought; one he, admittedly, was much too hesitant to linger upon lest his fears and paranoia saturate the fabric of his subconscious, self-doubt never too far from the back of his mind.

Truth be told, he had yet to realise that he, too, was deserving of love, patience and compassion; as would any person. That maybe, perhaps, there was more of him to love than he'd originally thought.

Lovino, in the midst of the moment, stops and stares at the person he's grown so fond of. The person he has grown to… sort of love?

Can one really fall in love so quickly?

If so, is it true? Is it pure? Would it be unconditional?

Allistor had finally noticed Lovino staring at him. He turns to the Italian and smiles, brazenly pulling him in for a passionate kiss. Then he says something to him, but Lovino can't really hear. The music's too loud. They're in the middle of the fucking dancefloor, for fuck's sake.

"What?!" Lovino yells over the music.

Allistor laughs before yelling back in response. "Let's sit this one out!"

Lovino nods and laces his fingers. It's when he finally takes notice of how sweaty the both of them are. The back of his shirt's soaked with sweat, and so is Allistor's. The black shirt is clinging the Scotsman's torso in all the right places. The Italian's cheeks are tinged red as he looks away, biting his bottom lip.

They make their way to the stairs winding up, back to the VIP area, but choose to sit at a separate table instead of with Allistor's friends. Allistor is leaning back against the plush leather seats, trying to catch his breath as he stares at the dancefloor below them.

Lovino glances around for a waiter, but all of them are occupied with catering the other VIPs, so he turns to Allistor and asks him. "Want anything to drink?"

Allistor looks at him and smiles. "Sure. What do yeh want me ta get, Lov?"

Lovino rolls his eyes. "Don't sweat yourself. I'll get us something to drink."

"Ah'll 'ave a whiskey on th' rocks then, Lov." A grateful smile graces the Scots lips as he leans in quick to peck the corner of Lovino's mouth before ensconcing himself further into the seats.

Albeit a bit flustered, Lovino jogs back down to the ground floor, where the bars were. There were two bars occupying either side of the Black Box, where there was a stage for performances up front and the dancefloor smack dab in the middle.

The Italian weaves his way through the crowd surrounding the bar nearest him and sees a bartender preparing a long line of drinks, yet no one was taking any.

He put on an easy-going smile and approached her. "Hey," he greeted, staring at the line of pub glasses in a silent sort of amazement.

The bartender glances up and beams at him, red dusting the tops of her cheeks. God, he is _so_ hot. "Hi!"

He motioned to the long train of drinks, "If you don't mind me asking, _bella_, what're you doing exactly?"

The brunette licks her lips and gives him a coy smile. "It's a Jäger train~. For entertainment's sake!"

Immediately, Lovino's eyes widen in recognition. "Oh my God, that's _so cool_! I've always wanted to set off one of those!"

"Oh?" The girl asks, internally swooning with how _happy _he looked. Unf. She pours in the last shot of Jägermeister and precariously places it on the rim between a glass of red bull and an empty glass.

There are lots of people crowding around the bar now. It's a train of about fifty Jägerbombs, so it's quite a spectacle to soon behold. Truth be told, the bartender was to trigger it herself, but with such a cute guy (was he Italian?! He sounds like it? Oh God, a hot Italian guy—) talking to her, she might as well let him set it off, right?

And the way his eyes lit up when he found out it was a Jäger train! _Freaking adorable_.

Just as Lovino stands back to stare at the train, she beckons him over. "You wanna help me set it off?"

The Italian's eyes widen in disbelief. "What? You serious?"

She smirks, languidly leaning over the bar and winking at him. "Like a heart attack!" She motions him forward and Lovino automatically leans in close.

"Alright," she says, "So you just gently push this glass to set off the Jägerbombs." She places her hand atop his and guides it to the last shot glass she poured. "You ready?"

Lovino beams at her. "Yeah!"

"Alright! Let's do this! One, two, three—"

The Italian's heart is rapidly beating against his chest as he slowly— but steadily— pushes the shot glass over the edge. The glass eventually topples over and falls into the first glass with the red bull. It starts a chain reaction too quickly for his eyes to follow, or his mind to comprehend, but it dazzles him nonetheless. As the shots fall into the glasses one by one, the Jägermeister fizzles into the red bull.

He laughs and turns to the bartender, awestruck wonder still evident on his expression. "God, that is so cool. I'm Lovino, by the way."

The bartender giggles. "Jamie."

Lovino plucks off one of the Jägerbombs and takes a sip. "Jamie," He says experimentally, name rolling off his tongue. "I'll have a whiskey on the rocks, please."

Jamie smirks at him. "One whiskey coming right up!"

She grabs a glass and fills it with a couple ice cubes, then pours the whiskey in. She slides it over to him when she's done, along with her number written on a slip of paper. "Lovino. Call me sometime," she says, fingertips brushing against his hand.

Lovino laughs (but he may or may not be internally panicking inside) before taking the drink as well as the slip of paper. "But of course, beautiful."

As soon as Lovino loses himself in the crowd once again, he hurries back up to where Allistor is, waiting for him.

"Sorry I took so long," he says awkwardly, expression sheepish as he hands the Scotsman his drink. He sidles right next to Allistor, the latter automatically wrapping his arm around Lovino's waist as he pulled his inamorato in close.

"S'all good, Lov," Allistor reassures, nuzzling his neck.

* * *

By the end of the night (or maybe the beginning of the day?), to say that Lovino and Allistor are drunk would be an understatement. Aptly put, they were downright _sloshed_. Like, fuck, just going down the fucking _stairs_ took them God knows how long. Lovino was pretty sure he was dying.

And if he wasn't, he was pretty sure he would've tumbled down the winding staircase and drag Allistor with him to their deaths.

Everything… There was just _so much of everything_. Too many stairs, goddammit, and which handrail is the real one? Why does it have to move like that? What's the thing's fucking problem? Why won't it _stay fucking still_?!

In the end, two of the waiters had to usher the couple down the stairs— _safely_— and direct them to the entrance of the Black Box.

The cool night air nipped at their skin as Lovino got on his knees before sitting on the floor, cradling his head in his hands. Allistor had managed to _not _lose his phone, and drunkenly fumbled around with the passcode lock on his phone for a few moments.

"Ah'll go 'ome wif yeh, yeah?" The redhead slurs, patting Lovino's head before inadvertently stumbling on his boyfriend. Luckily, he catches his balance and successfully grabs an Uber taxi.

Lovino yawns, leaning his head against Allistor's leg.

"Lov, don't fall asleep on me," Allistor slurs, his words turning into a drunken, incomprehensible mess.

Lovino says something unintelligible back, eyelids leaden with the need for sleep. Allistor drops to his knees beside Lovino, grabbing his boyfriend's shoulders.

"Stay awake. We're going 'ome. Ah don't know yer address. We might get lost!"

"Lost?!" Lovino slurs, eyes still shut. "No, I don't wanna get lost, dammit—"

"Then yeh need ta stay awake—"

Lovino cuts the redhead off, wrapping his arm around Allistor's shoulders and leaning all his weight on him. "Shhh," he shushes, clumsily raising a finger to the redhead's lips. "Can I tell you a secret?" He whispers loudly.

Allistor laughs, steadying the both of them lest they topple over. "Yeh can tell me anyfink, Lov,"

Lovino leans in close, close enough that Allistor can feel their breaths mingling together. Their breaths smelt of alcohol, but that's alright! Lovino cups a hand around his mouth and whispers loudly once more, "I think I want _french fries_. Ugh! From Mc— from McDon— from Mickey D's~ With a side of chicken nuggets!"

Allistor laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Ah've got a secret too! Do yeh want ta know wha' it is, luv?"

Lovino grabs the collar the Scotsman's shirt, twisting the fabric and pulling him in. Lovino's eyes are bloodshot and wide with curiosity. "_Tell me_," he demands, but his body is swaying to the call of sleep.

Allistor pulls his arm away from Lovino's waist and cups the Italian's cheeks, smooshing them together. He leans in close, expression serious for someone so intoxicated. "Ah fink Ah love yeh."

Lovino stares at him blankly for a few moments before his eyes widen in shock, a gasp leaving his lips. "Whoa!" He cups Allistor's cheeks. "You love me? I love you too! Whoa! Crazy _shit_, man,"

Allistor is giddy and drunk, and nearly bursting with joy. He leans in and presses his lips against Lovino's pulling him in. Just as Lovino is reciprocating the drunken Scotsman's perfervid affections, the black Uber rolls up in front of them.

The redhead pulls away, eyes trained on the car. "Lov! Th' cab is 'ere!" He hurriedly tries to stand up, only to stumble on his feet. He grabs onto Lovino's head for support (who's still in a daze, sitting on the ground). It takes the couple a few moments to get their shit together (help from the driver included), but they manage to get themselves into the car.

All the malarkey about Allistor telling Lovino to stay awake seems all for naught since the couple pass out only minutes later. The driver takes them straight to EHU, the original destination Allistor had punched in and paid the fare for.

When the couple are roused from their slumber, they stumble out of the car and out on the sidewalk right in front of the vast campus. The tall black gates are closed for the night already, preventing anyone from getting in.

"Why are we in school?" Lovino whines, pointing at the gates.

"Ah don't know," says Allistor, too lost to think up of what to say himself.

Lovino manages to strengthen his resolve, stomping his foot on the ground. "Alright! We're gonna Johnnie Walker this shit!"

"Yeah!" Allistor cheers, pumping a fist in the air.

"After all, it's just a five-minute walk. How hard can it be?"

* * *

The five-minute walk had lapsed into twenty-five as they lost their bearings for a good ten minutes and just sat on the pavement for a while. In actuality, all they had to do was walk straight, but with their sense of direction muddled up with alcohol, they wandered aimlessly several times throughout their way back home.

Lovino and Allistor finally manage to stumble past the doors of the Vargas brothers' apartment building, past the dozing guard and to the elevators. Lovino could feel his vision fading in and out, pretty damn sure he'd pass out as soon as he got in the apartment.

And by 'as soon as he got in the apartment', he meant halfway into the elevator. Allistor had managed to catch his boyfriend in time, though, and held onto him with a vice-like grip lest Lovino slip out of his arms like Jell-O. He's half-dragging Lovino by the time he, too, drags himself out of the elevator, running on nothing but pure will to get to the penthouse waiting for them at the end of the hall.

The redhead thumps his fist weakly against the door before feeling up the wall for the doorbell. Upon finding it, he presses it several times in a row before hoisting Lovino's unconscious body back up in his arms for a better grip.

Within minutes, the door is open and Feliciano is staring at them with an undecipherable expression on his face— or was that disappointment?— before his expression soon turns into concern, helping Allistor bring Lovino in.

They manage to bring him all the way to the couch in the living room where Allistor, without hesitation (he's too drunk to do such things), flops right beside his boyfriend, nearly crushing him, much to the younger Vargas' chagrin.

"Y-You know you can sleep in Lovi's bedroom, right?!" Feliciano is quick to say, but Allistor doesn't pay him any heed in favour of snuggling up to the passed out Italian and falling fast asleep himself.

Feliciano smiles at them for a few moments before grabbing an extra blanket from one of the cupboards and spreading over them. Ah. It seems that both _fratello _and his boyfriend are sloppy drunks. Wonderful~. Well, at least Lovi was back home safe and sound, right? So that's all that matters.

With that, he, too, turned in for the night.

* * *

Before Lovino knew it, Monday morning had come around.

There was a buzz in the campus; the Performing Arts Department, specifically. The students were awash with anticipation, a furore of excitement amongst the different students under the department as news came about of the upcoming exposure trip in November.

This semester's chosen destination?

New York.

* * *

**Translations:**

_nonno _\- grandfather (It.)  
_fratello _\- brother (It.)  
_ciao _\- hello (It.)  
_per l'amore di Dio _\- for the love of God (It.)  
_Dio _\- God (It.)  
_bella _\- beautiful (It.)

**Hello everyone! I'm very sorry for such a long hiatus, and I'll explain to you all now what had transpired during my absence.**

**As stated in the previous chapter, I had a nervous breakdown regarding the old content in my diary. I was in a mentally vulnerable state then; and coincidentally, I had just gotten into roleplaying. Since I was new to it all, I had viewed RPs as something akin my stories. So I poured my all into roleplays. That was my first mistake.**

**Being a writer, even though what I create is a thing of fiction, a figment of my imagination, it was all very real to me. I practically slam-dunked my mental health into the gutter just to really channel depressed!Antonio. I write for others to **_**feel**_**, and in order to do that, I have a tendency to put myself into the shoes of whomever character I was in the midst of writing. No matter what the repercussions would be.**

**I wound up getting attached to this one particular person and their muse; I, too, had confused my own feelings and emotions for my muse's. And he got hurt emotionally a **_**lot**_**. He was in a relationship where his partner would only ever cheat on him (ho hey one-sided 'polyamory'), manipulation and emotional abuse aside, and I felt like no matter what I did, my muse and I were— and never would be, good enough.**

**Obviously, things had gone terribly awry. It worsened my mental health. I was also very angry and bitter and so **_**anguished**_**, I absolutely hated myself. I was, admittedly, a pushover. I was hesitant to confront that person and speak up about it. So I let it continue and it continued to hurt me. That was my second mistake.**

**This went on for weeks and weeks, continually plaguing my thoughts. It left me restless at night; miserable when I was awake. And **_**finally**_**, at one point, it finally hit me that I **_**had **_**to detach myself from that person lest I wind up falling apart completely.**

**So I did.**

**It had culminated into a vicious cycle, however, when I went out of my way to patch things up with that person. Whatever fucked up 'friendship' we had, it was tearing at the seams, and no matter how hard I tried to mend it, it always wound up falling apart completely. It happened again with another admin, and that was the straw that broke the camel's back.**

**I felt so very worthless, used and unappreciated (then again, I was roleplaying APH Portugal); I felt cornered. Like I had no escape.**

**So in the end, I decided to stop RPing once and for all. It seemed impossible at the time, but I made it. I completely severed myself from anything RP-related. Thinking about it still pisses me off sometimes. I know I'm still bitter about it, and it hurts from time to time. But I'm not sure if it's just me feeling insulted because I was never appreciated there. My blood still runs cold when I see Antonio's name wherever. I kinda really hate him now. But I have to remember it was **_**that person**_** who bastardised my perception of Antonio as a respectable and decent human being.**

**That and 2P!America when his name is… I don't even want to mention it lol. I'm okay with the name Allen/Allan though.**

**Somehow, I think it was **_**necessary **_**for me to go through all that fucking **_**bullshit**_** and seemingly endless suffering in order to get over my relapse regarding the content in my journal.**

**So yeah. That was why it took me so long to get back up on my feet again. I had lost my hold on my writing style and I've been kinda lost ever since.**

**Also, a few things I felt was necessary to clarify:**

**This is an ****eventual Spamano****. No amount of favour for Scotmano— however I may love the ship I've sailed— will change that. But if you guys really want it, I can write fanfiction for Scotmano! I even have a few ideas for it already!**

**b. **_**Yes**_**, Lovino will still do the bucketlist. I have not deviated from the plot. Just let me work my magic, okay? Lovino completed something in this chapter, even! Who can tell what it was?**

**c. I've stated this in ch. 4's A/N, and I will reiterate it again. This fanfiction will have a **_**long-running plot **_**that spans over ****3-4 years****. It'll take some time for everything to unfold, yes, but I can assure you; it'll be quite worth it.**

**On a lighter note, thank you all so much for the feedback! I'm glad to know that Antonio was relatively IC. I'm always open to constructive criticism, so if there's anything off, then feel free to tell me! I'm sorry if reading this chapter was such a chore. I really was at a loss as to what to do, and this isn't my best work.**

**Thank you to all the people who were concerned about me. I'm really glad you cared. At this point in time, I'm pretty sure I'm over it. But I kinda lost my writing mojo as a result of that. I know something in my writing died the moment I started getting into this RPing malarkey, so I hope you'll all be patient with me while I gather my bearings once more. Word of advice? Getting into roleplaying is not advised for people who already have a good grip on their characters' characterisations.**

**But then again, that's just me.**

**Review, please? I could really, really use lots of reassurance right now, to be honest.**

**~jellydonut16~**

**P.S. Friendly reminder that what Antonio is feeling right now is just infatuation.**

**P.P.S. Also! Yeah. Portmanospa. My OT3. I have 2 fics in the making for that, actually, but I'm not sure if it'll reach fruition. I haven't finished the first chapter for either, but I've got bulk of the plot laid down already. One is a dramatic medieval AU of sorts, while the other is a high school AU that has lots and lots of sex. Yes, good.**

**P.P.P.S. Anyone notice any inconsistencies between Gilbert and Lovino's stories?**


	20. twenty

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

**_Kicking the Bucket List_**

**twenty**

**"_You are so damn fine  
_****_I__'__m so damn glad you__'__re mine  
_****_And you stay on my mind  
_****_I think about you all the damn time_"  
****— _All The Damn Time _by Fetty Wap**

That Monday morning during math class, Antonio, yet again, found himself waist-deep in a slew of thoughts— thoughts that had never existed until last week. Thoughts that he feared would never reach actualisation.

It was bad enough he was spacing out in class; he found his train of thought derailed by a certain Vargas twin sitting beside him, whose very presence spoke volumes, impossible to ignore. The Italian was in a world of his own as he alternated between checking his phone and doodling Pepe memes on the back of his notebook, occasionally glancing up to feign interest in the lecture.

The mere fact that Lovino was sitting beside him made Antonio feel somewhat _conscious _of how he spoke; how he carried himself. He and Lovino weren't exactly _friends_, after all; let alone on good terms. He felt like he was out of his comfort-zone whenever he was with him, which was something the Spaniard rarely experienced. He was usually comfortable in his own skin, and more often than not, oblivious (or uncaring, rather) to what others happened to think of him.

He stretched and sat upright in his chair before exhaling a deep sigh and slouching back down again, emerald eyes trained on the algebra handout atop his table. Though he usually did alright in algebra, right now, the jumble of numbers and letters on it made absolutely no sense to him at all.

Ah, _Dios_— where to start; where to begin? There were so many thoughts swimming around in his head, he's probably lost track of them all!

But if there was one thing he knew, it was that majority of them revolved around Lovino. The Italian was undoubtedly a constant reoccurrence in his mind's inner workings. If ever he was distracted by other things (a rarity, in his opinion), it was as if his mind would remind him, 'Hey, you haven't thought about Lovi in a while!' So he would.

A-And another thing! These… these _feelings _he has for Lovino, they— they aren't 'good' for him. At least, according to Francis and Gilbert. Hell, it's been reiterated often enough for him to just simply _not _ignore.

But does he care?

Antonio wishes he could be objective. He wishes that he could just finally, _finally _make up his mind with either a yes or a no. But he can't. He feels ambivalent. It's the overwhelming kind; the one that renders you speechless. Silent.

It is neither a yes or a no, but, perhaps, it is a little bit of both.

Truth be told, Antonio had long stopped asking himself _why _he felt This Way for Lovi. He stopped wondering why he felt so _strongly _for him, and instead, accepted it for what it was.

Instead, he found himself questioning _why _it had to be questioned. You're not supposed to justify loving someone. You just do.

Right?

B-Because ever since day one, Francis and Gilbert have been on the fence about him liking Lovino. Time and time again, they've been telling him that his affections were misplaced, that Lovino would never be good enough for him, and that it would just never work out.

God, it was— it was beginning to get on his nerves a bit, to say the least.

Like, who were _they _to tell him what he felt? They probably meant well, and that their intentions were good; that they were just looking out for him, but really. Antonio was no stranger to love, and he was pretty sure he could tell when he truly, _truly _liked someone.

Though, he will admit that he's changed. Who he was before is not who he is now. Wanting to be with Lovino had inadvertently changed him in ways he's never fathomed.

But Lovi can't ever be his.

Should he— should he try to get over Lovino? Get over the truculent Italian who's successfully captivated him and held all his attention? (Who _also _happened to have a boyfriend, nonetheless?)

If one were to think _logically_; _rationally_… Perhaps, yes.

But he doesn't want to.

Even though every time he sees Lovino, his heart clenches with a mixture of sadness and desire. His stomach is aflutter with butterflies, yet he feels uneasy. Like there's this leaden weight in his chest he can't ever seem to shake off.

There's this certain familiarity in those pretty hazel eyes his own seem to find in a roomful of people much too quickly to be good for him, and yet, he forces his gaze away, knowing Lovino would rarely meet his. Emerald eyes downcast, he couldn't even _look_ at him properly anymore, without overthinking every little aspect of how he was around him.

Then again…

Then again, since when was love ever _rational_? It was one of the most _ir_rational things that existed on this earth, and yet it was the one thing that made life worth living. Right? Antonio found that the more he thought about love, the more he grew uncertain of what he knew about it.

"—Mr. Fernández-Carriedo?"

Like a freight train coming to an abrupt halt, it is in that moment where Antonio snaps out of his thoughts for _once_, and sits straight in his seat. His mind races as he finally recalls that, _yes_, he is in the midst of having a lesson right now, and suddenly, he becomes all too aware of the fact that the class had grown quiet. All eyes were on him.

_Mierda_.

The Spaniard gulps, hoping the wave of panic didn't show. He looks at Mr. Robertson and he internally withers. "Yes, sir?"

The professor, who had his hands on his desk, rolled his eyes in exasperation. The class tepidly laughed in response. "Maybe if you stopped daydreaming in my class, Mr. Fernández-Carriedo, you would find that you might actually _learn _a thing or two from it! Who can _assist _Mr. Fernández-Carriedo in answering this question for him?" He taps at an equation written on the whiteboard with his pen. "What about you, Mr. Vargas?"

Antonio's heart skips a beat at the very mention of the other's name. The tempest of his emotions be damned, he found himself turning to look at Lovino. The Vargas grew rigid, staring at the board with an undecipherable expression on his face. But somehow, Antonio could see a gleam of irritation and anger barely hidden underneath a façade of indifference within their depths. The sound of a chair scraping against the linoleum floor echoes throughout the room, and Lovino expels a resigned sigh, standing up from his seat and ambling over to the board. He stares at the problem for several more moments, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

He scrawls a solution to the problem on the board. By this time, Antonio's got his bearings together just enough to study the problem Lovino is doing. It was wrong.

Judging from the Italian's lackadaisical manner of writing, Antonio had a hunch Lovino knew it too. Sure enough, just as Lovino handed the pen back to the professor, the latter had taken a glance at the solution on the board and slowly shook his head. Lovino merely shrugged before shuffling back to his seat.

As Mr. Robertson began to point out Lovino's mistakes, Antonio could only sit and stare.

* * *

You ever feel so strongly for someone, you just wanted to wrap your entire existence around them? Yeah. That's the one.

Lovino used to joke around with Bella before, about how he would only feel this way about either a) pizza or b) wine. B-But now that he actually _feels _like this for someone— an actual real life person— it's pretty fucking _surreal_ in a way. Prior this, before he ever met Allistor, the notion of 'falling in love' was tacky and inconceivable. It was an impossibility, he deemed, and never entertained any thoughts about it that may or may not have crossed his mind— let alone the very _notion _of someone falling in love with him, flaws and all. He was… difficult and he knew it. He was not an easy person to love or understand. In fact, he still is. Up until recently, he had just started warming up to the idea that maybe, perhaps, he was one of those rare people we may come across, who weren't meant to be understood. That he was meant to walk this earth without a hand to hold. And he accepted it.

If you told Lovino that he would finally fall in love several months after high school, he would've laughed in your face and told you to fuck off. But here and now, it was then when he finally realised that falling in love and being loved wasn't as far-fetched as it seemed. Someone actually wanted to fucking _be _with him. E-Even though he had all these shortcomings, Allistor somehow looked past all that, like it didn't matter.

There are a lot of people out there better for Allistor than Lovino could ever be, so he really wanted to try. He wanted to try and become a better person; someone the Scotsman would like to be with. Someone he could be proud of.

Though, in reality, all Lovino ever had to do was be himself.

* * *

Midday, the freshman students of the Performing Arts Department found themselves conglomerating in one of EHU's spacious conference halls. It was an orientation regarding the upcoming exposure trip to New York. Lovino lingered near the back of the room as the dean of the department, Cassandra Gaul, elaborated on the things EHU had in store for this semester's trip. It was to take place right after final exams, and a few days into semestral break.

Exposure trips were of common occurrences in EHU. The student body itself was already multi-cultural, with majority of the students being foreigners from various nations across the globe. Because of this, the institution sought to expand the mindsets of their students through the means of introducing them to many cultures and societies in different countries. Its purpose was _not only _to help them in garnering more experience in their chosen course, but to _motivate _them to be better at what they strive to do as well.

And despite the fact that Lovino _had _been to New York before, it was only a two-day, one-night trip, so that didn't really count. Truth be told, he was pretty stoked—

_Bzzzt!_

Lovino jolts slightly, staring at the phone already in his hand. It was a text from Bella.

**Bella: Lovi I got the registration forms already**  
**Bella: Where are u?**

Unlocking his phone, he sends back a quick text after taking a brief look-see at his surroundings.

**Lovino: third row form the back, left side**  
**Lovino: *from lmao**

And sure enough, Bella is discreetly walking in, footfalls muted by the carpet beneath her feet. The blond is bowing slightly, so as not to feel like she was attracting too much attention, and takes a seat beside Lovino. She beams at him, setting her Lacoste tote down on her lap. "Hey! Sorry I'm late. Did I miss anything important?"

Lovino merely casts the blond a quick glance before tersely shaking his head. "Nah, not really."

She hums in acknowledgement, nodding her head. "So are you going?"

He shuts his phone's screen off and looks at her properly this time, an eyebrow raised up. "To where? Like, to New York?"

"Yeah."

He turns to face the stage again. Ms. Gaul is still speaking, motioning to the PowerPoint presentation on the screen. There are pictures of Times Square on it, as well as a collage of group photos of the students that had went to New York last, about two years ago. After a few moments of thought, he gives a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. "Mm, yeah. Probably. I've only been to New York, like, once. And even then, it was for some wedding, so that doesn't really count."

"Ooh, whose wedding was it?"

He shrugs once more. "I dunno. Feli and I, we… we have a _lot _of distant relatives living up in Brooklyn. They're older than us, so we don't really talk to them much." Like, _at all_.

That, and _Nonno _didn't want the twins hanging around with them for too long. Thinking back on the wedding, held at Waldorf Astoria when Lovino and his family had moved back to Spokane, he could now kind of see why.

The Sanzones were already somewhat separated from the Vargases since they already lived in America for a long time. And even then, the only thing that tied them together was the union of a single marriage a few generations back, when most of the Sanzones still lived in Palermo. Meanwhile, Lovino's immediate family (_Nonno_, Feliciano— _Nonna _and his parents back when they were still alive) lived up in Verona. The rest of the Vargas family lives in Tuscany, where Feli and Lovino often spent their summers.

_Any_ways, the Sanzones were kind of… intimidating.

Actually, no. Not just 'intimidating'.

They were really fucking scary.

And you know what?

Thirteen year-old Lovino thought that his distant relatives were _The Shit_. No, really. He thought that they were the _absolute coolest_. He looked up to them as potential role-models, the disillusioned preteen he was back then, which probably only strengthened _Nonno_'s resolve to make sure neither he nor Feliciano would ever have to spend as much as a whole day with them.

Shit was effective as fuck.

* * *

"Aren't you joining the exposure trip?" Lovino asks Bella after the orientation had come to an end. Students around them were filling out their registration forms for the trip before submitting it to their respective year representatives. Bella was the first year representative of the Performing Arts Society, and thus had additional duties on her plate.

The aforementioned smiles sombrely, slightly shaking her head. "As soon as finals are over, my family and I are visiting Europe for the holidays. Especially since my Nana's getting so old. We have to make every minute with her memorable."

"Oh," Lovino says, albeit a tad bit awkwardly. He quickly redirects his gaze to his own registration sheet and flips several pages past the terms and conditions, and liability waiver, straight to the page he'd have to fill out. He fumbles around for the pen he keeps in his pocket and uses his laptop as a makeshift surface.

Bella scoots closer to him and glances over his shoulder. She blinks once. Twice.

Brows furrowed in confusion, she asks him, "Your middle name is Romano?"

Lovino pauses. He's obviously written 'Lovino Romano Vargas'. What the hell, Bella. "Um. Duh."

"Like 'Romano' the cheese?"

The Italian gives her a scathing look. "**_No_**, like 'Romano' the place. Rome. _Of Rome_."

"Then what's Feli's middle name?"

"Veneziano. Of Venice."

"Oh," Bella slowly nodded as she processed this information. "So why are you named after places?"

Lovino made a face. "I don't know? I remember my grandpa saying something about my mom wanting to name us after the city we were conceived in, but we're, like, twins, so that's… fucking retarded."

Then Bella laughs, wrapping her arm around Lovino's shoulders as he grumbled under his breath. "If it helps any, my middle name is Emmanuelle. It's why my parents _insist _on calling me Emma!"

* * *

There was a certain look in Lovino's eyes Allistor had come to commit to memory over the past few weeks. A certain twinkle within those hazel depths, yes, Allistor had learnt to love this expression. And the way Lovino would sit up straight, nimble hands poised to express, it didn't take a genius to find out that at that moment, every bone in Lovino's being had come to life.

And when he spoke, there would be a hint of breathlessness— but not from physical activities of the sort, no. From excitement and exultancy.

Cheeks lightly flushed, Lovino would always have the tendency to smile during these moments.

This… was Lovino when he talked about his stories.

As they sat on a bench in the park— the same one they've sat the time they've been here last, to be exact— Allistor had a smoke in one hand, and the other draped over the bench. Lovino was gesticulating, telling him of all the twists and turns of whatever story plot's got his head working into full gear.

Allistor straightened up on the bench and tapped his cigarette on the edge of the seat before bringing it back to his lips again, just staring at him.

God, Lov had such a gorgeous face.

Eventually, the Italian had finally taken notice of the Scotsman intently staring at him, and in turn, his face grew scarlet. He fumbled with his words to a stop and glared. "The fuck are you looking at?"

Allistor pulled the cigarette away and languidly blew a puff of smoke. "You."

If anything, Lovino's face reddened even more and the Scotsman watched in amusement. The brunette averted his gaze to the ground, a scowl finding its way on his lips. "Didn't anyone tell you it's rude to stare?"

Allistor smirked. "Once or twice. Ah usually listen, but it's hard keeping my eyes off of someone like you." He leant in and Lovino's eyes automatically fluttered close. Allistor gently kissed the corner of Lovino's mouth, and the latter inhaled deeply.

The couple stayed quiet like that for several moments before Lovino opened his eyes again. The Italian swallowed, turning to look at Allistor.

"Ah meant wha' Ah said that night we went to th' club."

The corner of Lovino's lips quirked upwards. "I know. I did too."

Allistor's heart was rapidly beating against his chest, and he was pretty sure the same could be said for Lovino too. They stared each other in silence before Allistor finally remembered his cigarette and tapped the burnt excess off before taking another quick drag.

Lovino wrung his hands together before he took a deep breath. His palms were sweaty for some reason, and he felt his stomach lurch. What was this feeling?

Shifting his entire body to face Allistor properly, he plucked the cigarette out of the redhead's fingers and brought it to his lips, forest green eyes never leaving his.

After his initial surprise, Allistor smiled and wrapped an arm around Lovino's waist.

Lovino exhaled the smoke through his nose, corners of his lips lifting up into a small smile.

"Smoking's a bad habit an' it's bad for yer health," Allistor murmured, taking the nearly consumed cigarette from Lovino's fingers before tossing it on the pavement. "Ah would know."

Amused, the Italian said, "I love you too."

"Ah love yeh so much."

And they kissed.

* * *

"Hey Toni!"

The aforementioned glanced up at the familiar voice of one of his friends from around campus. An easy smile formed on his lips. "_Hola_, Alfred! What's up?"

Alfred F. Jones was one of the star athletes on campus. Quarterback for the American football team. With blond hair and blue eyes, the kid is practically a poster boy for the all-American Dream.

The blond crossed the courtyard and flopped down beside Antonio on the bench he was sitting on. "So a few friends and I are throwing this really rad party on Friday! Cups for a Cause. Entrance fee is five dollars and you get a red cup. Drinks are sponsored and on us, and all proceeds will go to Red Cross. There'll be live performances too!" Alfred hands him a flyer. "You should come. Invite Gilbert and Francis too! It'll be fun!"

* * *

"'_Cups for a Cause_'? The fuck is that?" Lovino echoes, eyeing Feliciano incredulously.

"Ve~ It's this party a friend of mine is hosting this Friday! It's for a really good cause, _fratello_—"

"Then _you _go—"

"But I want you to go with me!"

Lovino finally hits pause on his controller and looks at Feliciano. Sure enough, the younger twin's eyes are wide with pleading (but _why_ though?). They stare at each other like that for a few seconds before Feli finally speaks up once more. "It's just that— I feel like we rarely ever see each other anymore! And, who knows, it'll be fun! For the _both _of us!"

The older Vargas sighs, bringing the controller down to his lap. He makes a face before turning back to the screen and unpausing his game. "Ugh. Fine. I'll go to your stupid party."

Feliciano lets out a squeal of glee, tackling his brother into a hug. "Yay!"

"Oh my God, Feliciano, get off of me!"

* * *

Friday night had finally rolled around and a lot of the students were attending Cups for a Cause, bringing their own friends who may or may not go to other schools. It'd taken a while for Lovino to accustom himself to it, but he had finally acknowledged that social gatherings like these were going to be a staple in his life now, especially since Evergreen Hollows University often hosted solidarity events.

In this manner, the institution transcended run-of-the-mill bake sales and donation drives, instead holding events that would be fun for their students to partake in, as well as promote _synergy_ and _camaraderie_ and… and… oh, fuck it.

If there was one thing Lovino needed, it was a drink. A _strong_ one.

Schoolwork had been increasing as of late and midterm exams were looming over the brink, practically breathing down the Italian's neck. Tensions were high and— frankly— so was Lovino's blood pressure.

He was _this close _to strangling his group mates, but fuck that shit for now. Because tonight? He was intent on paying for his red cup and drinking whatever the fuck they've spiked with booze in the campus atrium.

It was seven PM and there was a soundcheck for one of the live bands opening the show. EDM filled the silence as the Vargas twins took their seats near the stage. The older twin poured himself a cupful of jungle juice from one of the punch bowls and listened to Feliciano elaborate on how the art students helped out with decorating the atrium, himself included.

"Ve~ I really like it here, Lovi. The people are so nice and wonderful. Do you like it here too? Are you happy here?"

Lovino may or may not have thought of Allistor at that moment. He felt an imminent flush creeping up the back of his neck and opted to bring the cup up to his lips to take a sip, seemingly lost in thought.

"I guess so, yeah," he murmurs, setting the cup back down. He clears his throat and hides the bottom half of his face with his hand.

"I'm glad. You deserve to be happy, _fratello_." Feliciano says sotto voce, his tone suddenly gentle.

The tone and what Feliciano's said itself takes Lovino by surprise, and the latter automatically jerks his head up to meet his brother's gaze. Lovino's brows are furrowed, and he's staring at Feli like he's suddenly sprouted two heads. Feliciano smiles at him evenly.

"What the fuck," Lovino says, breaking the silence between them. He brings his hand down to the cup and sloshes the red liquid around. "Why do you have to be so mushy in public? The fuck is wrong with you?"

He lightly shoves Feli's shoulder before drawing back, crossing his arms over his chest as he slowly shook his head and muttered various expletives under his breath. Leave it to Feliciano to be irrationally sentimental at the weirdest of times.

* * *

Ten o' clock at night, and the stage in the atrium has come to life with a band playing electric indie music. Lovino's by his lonesome now, Feliciano having left to mingle with his cohorts in the Art Department around an hour and a half ago.

He's grown bored of the sugary, alcohol-spiked concoction and decided to stand up and grab a beer (he was _that _sick of the jungle juice, yes) from the make-shift bar by the stage (mainly consisting of large Coleman coolers and a flimsy table with bowls of spiked punch), and maybe just walk around.

He felt awkward, being all alone in a social gathering like this (Allistor is busy with the play; Bella's busy with studying for a make-up exam tomorrow). Albeit the fact it was something he was accustomed to, he had grown used to being with Allistor or Bella whenever he had to be seen in public like this. So now, it just felt pretty fucking weird.

And awkward.

He didn't like the feeling.

Lovino wound his way through his peers and grabbed an apple-flavoured beer from one of the giant red coolers and walked out of the school building, revelling in the sudden quiet, save for the sound of crickets and cicadas singing their song. His feet automatically take him to the garden where he often frequents to write, but to his dismay, it isn't as well lit as the rest of the school.

_Fuck it, _he thinks to himself, pausing to take a long swig of the drink and stalking off to the side of the school no one but him ever seemed to visit.

He takes a seat on the bench, closing his eyes and heaving a deep sigh. There was a familiar ache in the back of his eyes, thoughts of his upcoming exams winding its way through his mind. Man, _fuck _exams. Fuck group projects.

All he wanted was peace and quiet—

"Hey," a somewhat familiar voice says, momentarily startling the Italian out of his thoughts. Lovino blanked out for a second before letting out yet another sigh, opening his eyes and starting at the weird ass Spaniard in his math and philosophy class. Feliciano used to make Antonio bring him lunch everyday, but now he doesn't for some reason.

Maybe Feli's decided he's been eating enough.

He was sure his expression was riddled with annoyance, because he was. Who the fuck does the bastard think he is, trying to kill his vibe like that?

He could see the Spaniard fidgeting about, shifting his weight from foot to foot. It took him quite a bit of effort to refrain himself from smirking. After all the bullshit that asshole's caused him, he enjoyed watching the Spaniard squirm in discomfort.

"I, uh," Antonio stammers. It vaguely makes Lovino want to sock him in the face. "Great party, huh?"

Lovino stays silent. His eyes narrow a fraction.

And they just look at each other.

Then just as Antonio was about to speak up again, Lovino cut in. Almost warily, he answers, "I've been to better." Then he pauses for a moment, entertaining a particular thought. "No offence, but why are you talking to me?"

"Why not?" Antonio counters.

Lovino scowls at him darkly. "Because."

Antonio looks as if he's trying not to smile. Dammit, _no_. "Because?" He asks in a sing-song voice, one that infuriated Lovino further. God, _all _he wanted was to be left alone.

Which is ironic, because he's at a fucking party. And he _has _been alone (for the past hour and a half at that), but not in the way he wanted to be.

There's— there's a _difference _between being alone and being _lonely_. Got it?

And so, the older Vargas brother starts to rack through his mind for a plausible reason. "Because you're friends with Francis and Gilbert."

Antonio's expression falls slightly. Just _how much **beef **_does his best friends have with Lovino, exactly? What have they _done _to him?

What has Lovi done to _them_?

_What have they done to each other?!_

Lovino is staring straight ahead, steadily taking swigs from his bottle. And finally, he draws the nearly empty bottle away from his lips and stares at Antonio again.

Antonio is already staring at him and it unnerves him somewhat. Makes him feel a bit conscious of himself. Never did the green in his eyes seem so intense as they were now.

Involuntarily, he could feel his cheeks beginning to redden. Goddammit. He averts his gaze.

"_Why _are you here?" Lovino asks him finally. "Just do what you need to. Say what you have to say. Then go. You don't have to _stand_ there, _quietly_, like some sort of sketchy ass prick looming in the dark."

"I just wanted to talk," Antonio says. Then a bit more quietly, he adds, "…and be your friend."

* * *

Antonio didn't know where he stood with Lovino, honestly.

Although the Italian had stopped physically harassing him as his infatuation with Feliciano came to a screeching halt, him being friends with Francis and Gilbert was still enough for Lovino not to trust him, let alone even _talk _to him.

He felt as if he were on the end of his rope.

Even though it's dark out, Antonio can still see Lovino through the moonlight, as well as from the sparse light coming from one of the lampposts a few feet away from them. Lovino's looking at him like he's gone crazy— who knows? Maybe Antonio has.

Gone crazy, that is.

Crazy, crazy in love with Lovino Vargas.

Lovino, who is so capricious and easily angered, but he's passionate— _so _passionate— and so full of life. Lovino was like a live wire in this manner. You never know what to expect from him, whether he will snap at you or laugh in your face.

Or maybe that's just him.

The Italian's eyes are pitch black from this angle, but he can still feel Lovino staring at him. Scrutinising him. His mouth is curved down.

He's seen Lovino smile and laugh before. Usually at his expense, but it's well worth it. Lovino had a breathtaking smile, especially when it was genuine. He used to rarely smile before, but ever since he and Allistor came out as a couple, he's been smiling a bit more everyday.

Allistor makes him happy. Antonio knows that. But sometimes, he just— he just wishes he could— just.

…Make Lovino happy as well.

Like, genuinely, _truly _happy.

He could give Lovino his all, but it'd probably amount to damned well nothing compared to whatever Allistor makes him feel.

That's a depressing thought.

Antonio quickly shakes the unfavourable thoughts out of his head.

He snaps out of his trance just in time to see Lovino harrumph and scoot over to one end of the bench (and away from him too, to Antonio's dismay). He crosses his arms over his chest and glares at him, but for once there is no malice in Lovino's stare. "You're probably going to stab me in the back, like Judas."

"I'm not!" Antonio suddenly exclaims, as if he'd finally found his voice. Lovino blinks back in mild surprise at the sheer volume. "I won't! I would _never_ want to hurt you, Lovi. Can't we just start over and make amends? I don't want bad blood between us. I want us to be friends—"

"Yeah, but _why_? _Why _would you want us to be friends? FY-fucking-I, your best friends fucking _hate _me. And I hate them too! They're assholes. No offence. Actually? Feel offended all you want, I don't fucking care."

Then everything goes quiet again.

_Dios_, Lovino is… a savage. As soon as Antonio thinks it, he snorts before he begins to laugh.

"What?!" Lovino growls out, stomping one of his feet on the ground, but the sound is muted by the soft grass underfoot, so he opts to raise his voice a bit more. "The fuck are you laughing at, you piece of shit?"

Tears are running down Antonio's cheeks, and he fearlessly flops down on the bench beside Lovino. He tries to speak, but he only ends up laughing even harder.

Lovino shoves Antonio away by the shoulder hard. But he only succeeds in kinda pushing himself away from the Spaniard.

"Oh, Lovi," Antonio says, and Lovino glowers at the nickname. "You're so cute."

Lovino punches his shoulder again, but Antonio doesn't mind. "Prick."

His cheeks were tinged red out of irritation (and a tincture of embarrassment) and Antonio can't help but find it absolutely adorable.

"Aww, you're blushing!"

"Shut up! I am _not_!" Lovino says indignantly, rubbing at his cheeks, the action only making his face redden even more. God, his tendency to blush was fucking annoying. "You are so annoying."

Then his phone vibrates and he pulls it out of his pocket. He texts back a reply, his sour mood seemingly dissipating as the corners of his lips curled up into a gentle smile.

It didn't take long for Antonio to guess who Lovino was texting with.

Several moments later, Lovino's phone starts ringing, and he answers.

Antonio shifts about awkwardly on the bench, as the guy he had feelings for talked with his boyfriend on the phone.

…Well then~!

* * *

After several minutes of agony and torture, Lovino finally hangs up and slips the phone back in his pocket. His eyes casually glaze over Antonio, expression unreadable.

"Oh," says Lovino in what seems to be mock surprise. "You're still here?"

Antonio smiles. "Yep!"

Lovino seems to have cooled down a bit, so he sighs and leans back into the wooden bench. "What course are you taking, anyway?"

"I'm taking bachelor of education for pre-school education. I can teach up to grade three!"

The Vargas seems rather distressed upon hearing this, expression incredulous. "You're— So let me get this straight. You're going to be a _teacher_?"

"Yep!" Antonio chirps. "I love being around kids. They're so cute!"

To his surprise, Lovino begins to laugh. Hard. "So _you__'__re _going to be teaching them. Our children's futures are in your hands. _Your hands._ We're _fucked_!"

Antonio laughs too. They laugh for a minute or so before the laughter settles down. So he begins to tell Lovino about his little cousins back in Spain, and how he used to babysit his neighbours when he lived in Orange County, California. He tells Lovino about his older brother, Alvarez, a hot-shot businessman who lives in Hollywood and knows all these celebrities, and—

He pauses.

He thinks about his mom.

"But enough about me," Antonio says abruptly, turning to face Lovino. "You're taking Creative Writing, right?"

Lovino squints at him suspiciously. "How'd you know?"

"I saw you walking out of Ms. Sharp's class once. She usually handles classes for Creative Writing. Also, she and my brother used to date."

Hazel eyes narrow further. _The answer to a question I never asked, _he thinks to himself. "O_kay_ then…"

The two begin talking about writing, and literature, and books. It's… surprisingly easy talking to Lovino once the Italian gets started. He's elated Lovino's finally paying attention to him, and is pretty damned sure he falls a little harder for the Italian sitting right beside him.

Lovino is… _enchanting_. He's got that je ne sais quoi that draws people in, especially once they've gotten past the Italian's normally angry demeanour. No wonder Allistor fell for him as Antonio had. The Scot's a lucky man, he had to admit.

Lovino avoids talking about his own writing, however, and always changes the subject when Antonio brings it up. The latter doesn't push it lest Lovi gets mad at him again and stops talking to him entirely.

* * *

They talk more, and before any of them realise it, it's Saturday.

Time flies when they're together, and Antonio is genuinely surprised it's nearly one AM.

Lovino has to leave when Feliciano finally texts him, and bids Antonio a quick goodbye.

* * *

Everything is like a dream after that.

It's all surreal, so surreal.

Antonio's vaguely aware he's walking back to the atrium, where everything (and every_one_) is trashed and there are red cups scattered all about the area. He sees Gilbert passed out by a table, and Francis is trying to wake him up.

He helps Francis help Gilbert up, and slowly, the Bad Touch Trio make their way back to their apartment.

Antonio can't stop replaying what happened with Lovino over and over in his head. He can't stop smiling.

Once they get in, they drag Gilbert onto the couch while Francis stalks off to his room, muttering something about his nightly beauty regime and bidding Antonio a goodnight.

Antonio is still smiling, and when Franny's door closes shut, the Spaniard gives a silent whoop of joy. He's giddy and he's just so, _so happy_. He practically dances all the way to his room, heart rapidly beating against his chest as he flopped right onto his bed. The Spaniard gives his pillow a tight squeeze, burying his face into it.

How he wished Lovino was that pillow! _Uuuuuunnnnffff_.

It's an ungodly hour in the morning, but Antonio's so worked up, he can't _possibly _fall asleep _now_. So he kills his time until he eventually _does _want to fall asleep by going through his Facebook on his iPad. A bunch of notifications pop up, the social butterfly he is, so he goes through them all.

He goes through his notifications first. He is tagged in photos, and his statuses gets comments and likes. He likes the comments and the photos, then goes on to his messages. There's some sort of commotion going on in the group chat for one the projects he has. He inbox-zones _that_ and goes to his friend requests. There's one notification for that.

Once Antonio opens the notification, his heart's rapidly beating against his chest tenfold, and his cheeks are _red_.

'_**Lovino Vargas** accepted your friend request.  
__12 minutes ago__'_

* * *

**Translations:**

_Dios _\- God (Esp.)  
_Nonno_ \- grandfather (It.)  
_Nonna_ \- grandmother (It.)  
_fratello_ \- brother (It.)

**Hey guys! Sorry for the late update. Midterms came up, then a market launch, then all these requirements and finals. All of _that__'__s _done, so I hope to update the next chapter over the holidays. Pretty excited to get to the character development. Expect a teensy li'l time skip in the next chapter. Nothing too major though.**

**Please review! I'd really like to hear from you guys! Also, how's the Spamano going? I've really fucked them up since the beginning, it seems, so it'll be a little harder getting them together since there's an Allistor-shaped block in between them.**

**~jellydonut16~**

**P.S. Not to be interpreted as a shameless plug, but I made a Facebook page for Jellydonut16. You aren't obligated to like it or anything, but since my updates have started getting few and far between, I made it so as to fill the radio silence. So I don't seem completely under the radar. Also, I post statuses for chapter updates, and progress on my stories there so far. URL is jellydonut16 :D**

**P.P.S. I changed Bulgaria's name several times. I fudged up with the first name, so I went with Bulgaria's fanon name (I don't remember what it is now rip-) before changing it one last time to _Aleksander Balakov_, which was my original headcanon name for him that I forgot. Yep~! Also, my original name for Ned was Tim, apparently, and not Lars. Huh.**


	21. twenty-one

**A/N: worthwhile content in the author's note.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

**_Kicking The Bucket List  
_****twenty-one**

**"_i like my body when it is with your  
_****_body. It is so quite new a thing._"  
****— E.E. Cummings**

Before long, it was now mid-October. Autumn had come and brought about a whirlwind of vibrant shades of red, yellow, and orange to Evergreen Hollows University, save for the evergreen trees in the forest that bordered the campus, which had given the latter its namesake.

The temperature had grown considerably cooler, and with colder weather, it automatically meant that Antonio was starting to pack on the layers. And by 'layers', he meant cardigans and sweaters galore, and not layers of fat. He never really did handle the cold all that well. During his first year here, as soon as he was able to when winter break came around, he wasted absolutely no time in taking the red-eye flight back to his home in perpetually sunny, sunny California, where the snow could not get to him. And for that, he was thankful.

Weather aside, a lot had changed in the short period of time in which he had (finally, _finally_) befriended Lovi.

To say that the two were practically joined at the hip would be an understatement.

…No, actually, it's such a vast _over_statement, it kinda made Antonio want to curl up and wither inside. But hey! At least they were on _way _better terms now! One would even consider them to be _good friends_, even!

That is, albeit the fact that the two rarely got to interact outside of the classes they shared.

Antonio had grown to cherish the times he had Lovi all to himself (though only to an extent). It seemed as if they only got to spend time together after class if ever: a) Allistor was busy, b) Bella was busy, and c) if Lovino didn't have anything important to do or cram for during lunchtime. One couldn't do without the other, apparently, and it was a rarity that Bella was ever too caught up in whatever she had going on to spend time with Lovi, or so the latter says.

Frankly, Antonio couldn't really find it in himself to give a damn about whatever Allistor or Bella, or _any _of Lovino's other friends were up to, just as long as he could spend time with Lovi himself. To him, being with Lovino was all that mattered.

* * *

"I'm dying," Antonio says to his friends during lunch, a faisandé grin of sorts plastered onto his face as Lovino walked away from the bench the two were previously sitting at, before the Italian went to meet with his own group of friends. "It doesn't look like it, but I am _dying_."

Francis expels a sigh for the nth time and massaged his temples as Gilbert shook his head and tutted in disapproval.

"You got yourself into this," Gilbert lightly scolds and in that instant, Antonio regrets ever bringing Lovino up. He's made that mistake many times before, and now he's made it again. "I _told _you that all he's ever going to do is make your life a living _hell_. And bring you suffering. And pain. Not to mention, torture."

"But it's not a living hell," Antonio argues weakly; sheepishly. A-And it isn't! Really! Well— Lovino isn't _directly _making his life a 'living hell' per se, no, but seeing him with Allistor around campus all the time— ah, it comes pretty damn close! Honestly, it was a struggle trying to keep in his emotions under control, envy being the biggest one amongst them.

Somehow, Lovino could always draw the extremes out of him from a spectrum of emotions, albeit some ('some' being used very lightly) negative ones thrown into the mix as well. Perhaps love really did bring out the best and worst in a person. Or maybe, perhaps, it was only the best, whilst the rest was just in the nature of human beings. But now is not the time to dwell on that because—

Because _every _single time he saw Lovi and Allistor walking hand-in-hand, talking, laughing— and even worse, _kissing_— he started seeing red. He would start _seething_, and it was really, _really _hard trying to rein his emotions in (again).

Antonio never really did handle jealousy all that well, but _envy_… Envy was much, much worse. He had no right to feel this way and he _knew _that— the Italian had a boyfriend after all! But it was just really hard.

Sometimes, Antonio couldn't deal with the fact that there was this darker side to himself, one that's been buried in deeper than any relapse he's ever had, and it's been rearing its ugly head more and more often. He was ashamed of it, God, and he was scared to death of how Lovi would react if he ever saw Antonio just _being _like this. He was not proud of it, no.

It didn't help that there were all these boundaries between them. That one line Antonio could never cross. Well, as long as Lovi and Allistor were together, that is. But he had this nagging doubt that the two would ever break up. Gil and Franny could see it too, which was why they were just so _adamant _Antonio move on and get over Lovino as soon as possible, and that since there were more fish in the sea, he shouldn't have any problems moving on to someone else. Someone 'better' for him.

And… normally, he wouldn't have. Have problems moving on, that is. He's done it before. Lots of times. Rejection never kept him from getting back up and shrugging the dirt off his shoulders. But this time?

This time, he wasn't so sure if he could just _move on_.

This time, it wasn't so easy anymore.

This time, he didn't give a damn about the rest of the proverbial fish in the sea. Antonio wanted _him_. Lovino. And only him. Why couldn't they see that?

Hell, just _thinking _about cutting Lovino out of his life (and vice-versa) _hurt_. It hurt a _lot_, just the thought of it! He daren't even fathom how much pain and regret he'd feel if he actually went out and did it.

He would never, _never _just push Lovino away like that.

Lovi probably wouldn't care, since he had Allistor and his own friends already.

But Antonio certainly _would _care. Without a doubt, it'd tear him apart from inside out if he and Lovi went back to the senseless bickering— or _worse_— no bickering at all. It'd leave nothing but a strained and awkward silence between them, having been reduced to nothing but strangers. _Again_.

Just like before.

* * *

"_Why _do you hang out with that guy?" Bella asks of Lovino, brows furrowed and a look of disdain not at all complementing her pretty face. '_That Guy_', of course, was none other than Antonio Fernández-Carriedo.

Lovino and Antonio's peculiar friendship had confused some, but nonplussed Bella most of all. It— it just didn't _click _somehow.

"I don't know," Lovino says honestly. He really doesn't. "He's just… _there _all the time."

"That's creepy."

Just as Lovino is about to concur, Liz pipes up. "I hear he's kind of a slut."

And then the weirdest thing happened. Bella and Lovino immediately turned to her in surprise, and possibly even mild disturbance. Even Feliks and Michelle have stopped fawning over photos of Brock O'Hurn just to look at Liz.

Then Elizabeta _sighs_ and shrugs her shoulders like it wasn't even a big deal. Though it kind of totally _was_. "Roderich, this guy I've been talking to, he's bi. He and Antonio used to date each other before."

"Whoa, hold up," Lovino cuts in. He gawks at Eliza for a good two seconds before he gesticulates vaguely. "So you're, like, seeing this Roderich guy?"

Elizabeta looks at him weirdly, like he's suddenly sprouted two heads. "Uh… Yeah?"

"_Romantically_," he emphasises.

The Hungarian furrows her brows together before she snorts. "Not sure if there's like a platonic version of 'seeing' another person, but yeah. We've been going out on dates and all—"

"What?!" Michelle exclaims, all eyes on her. "When did you ever think about telling us? AKA, your _friends_?"

"Jeez, I didn't think it'd be such a big deal!" Liz shrugs, a sheepish expression on her face. "Plus I wanted to wait until we were official before I said anything."

"No way!"

Immediately, Bella, Michelle and Feliks flock to her, prodding insistently for details.

But Lovino?

Tch, the poor kid's in shock. Guess that tends to happen when your perception of a person is suddenly shattered.

"So… you're not gay?" The Italian speaks up.

Elizabeta snorts, a funny smile on her face. "No..? Why would I be gay?"

"Like, why _wouldn__'__t _you be gay? You _breathe _gay."

As Liz begins to laugh, Bella lightly places a hand on Lovino's shoulder, expression and tone motherly. "Lovi, just because someone's really, really, _really _into homosexual relationships and sex, doesn't mean that they _are _gay themselves!"

"Exactly." Liz concludes—

"Excuse me, but _I _am here," Feliks interjects, gently planting a neatly manicured hand on his chest. "I'm, like, the gayest gay that's ever gayed."

Then he pauses for a moment.

"Or, rather, _one _of the gayest gays that's ever gayed. I mean, at least give me that!"

Lovino rolls his eyes, "There's no doubt about that."

And so the squad began to discuss this Roderich person, and who he was. Roderich Edelstein's an Austrian-born music prodigy, apparently, but he migrated to the USA with his illustrious family to take up music in Evergreen Hollows University, where he is one of the institution's most talented and promising students. He could've gone to Julliard easy, but he opted to become a protégé of world-class pianist, Noël Strauss, instead, who taught as a hobby at EHU.

Eliza began to elaborate on how they'd met entirely through happenstance. Roderich had been collaborating with the school's orchestra for the music to be used in one of the upcoming plays; the very same one Allistor is directing.

She was tasked to get a copy of the file from Roderich, blank CD and extra flash drive in hand, and the two instantly hit it off. She accompanied her story with showing them screenshots and Facebook conversations on her phone, good morning and good night texts and all. It was sweet. So sickly _sweet_!

No longer was she the _volatile_, _pan-wielding_, **_perverted _**homophile everyone had come to know (and not love); she became m-more… _gentle _and w-_womanly_ around Roderich, like he'd brought out this hidden side that no one's ever seen before out of Elizabeta. Which he did.

It was fucking terrifying.

Then as the two got to know each other more, it turns out that Roderich had dated Antonio before. It all started when they saw the Spaniard _jovially _walking towards the Performing Arts Department (to bring Lovino his lunch, most likely). The disgruntled Austrian instantly burst out into a tirade, a lengthy jeremiad of how he absolutely _hated_/_abhorred_/_loathed _Antonio and what he'd done to him.

The squad grew silent for a moment, letting this new nugget of information sink in. Lovino's the first one to break the silence, not giving _that _much of a fuck anyway.

"So why'd they break up?" He ponders out loud, sneaking a small glance at the Spaniard hanging out with his asshole bastard piece of shit friends from across the courtyard. And he fails— _terribly_, at that— since when he looks, he catches Antonio already looking at him, that bastard. He's grinning and waving, and it pisses Lovino off that his cheeks are reddening with the embarrassment of being caught, albeit the fact that Antonio had been ogling at him (for God knows how long?) as well. Instead, Lovino scowls and turns away.

"Apparently, Antonio fell in love with someone else, so he broke up with him."

"Well that sucks."

Liz's expression suddenly darkens tenfold, and everyone inconspicuously inches away from her a bit. But with reason to! This expression was _not _to be taken lightly. This was Elizabeta Héderváry truly and wholly _pissed off_. Huffing angrily, she crossed her arms over her chest and began her rant.

"What's _worse _is that Antonio was already dating the other guy _before _he officially broke it off with Roderich! So, technically, he _fucking cheated on him_. And he didn't care for Roddy, like, at _all_. Just because he finally got to be with his new boyfriend. He's such an _asshole_!" Elizabeta's tone was vicious, dripping with absolutely naught but pure rancour on the behalf of her newfound beau. Lovino could practically feel the hate radiating off of her person, it was _that bad_. "And you know _what_?"

She pauses, raising an index finger up as she laughed, and laughed very bitterly. "_Apparently_, he didn't even last _several weeks_ with his new boyfriend! Wow! He broke it off with whom he broke up with _Roderich _for, and got with someone else instead. He is _such _a man slut. I don't understand how you could _possibly _ever tolerate him, Lovino."

"What a dick," Lovino mutters under his breath, turning to glare at the Spaniard once more. He felt a spike of anger surge within him, blood suddenly beginning to boil underneath his skin, as he recalled Antonio's multiple, _incessant _attempts to woo Feliciano. That bastard! That _fucking bastard_! All that motherfucker would've done is break Feliciano's heart— well, if Lovino hadn't stepped in, that is. _Grazie a Dio _for the Virginity Guardian Armour, it's prevailed once again. Forever shielding his little brother from fuckboys galore.

Fucking crisis averted.

Then Lovino gets this— this sudden urge to throttle Antonio. Fists clenched, he grits his teeth and tries to calm himself. Keyword: _try_. The past is in the past, _sure_, but with how fucking _angry _he was, socking Antonio in the face for his past transgressions seemed justifiable in his head. It probably was. Probably.

"I _know _right?!" Liz exclaims, obviously getting worked up over the topic of discussion. Hell, everyone was too. They were all very anti-Antonio at the moment. "Ugh, I fucking hate him. I _don__'__t like him at all_. And _not _just because he _dated _Roddy, but because he was such an _inconsiderate asshole_. And now look at him."

She openly gestures to the Spaniard, gracefully (and sarcastically) flourishing an arm out before her. Antonio is still smiling at Lovino, but he doesn't seem to notice the glares everyone in Lovino's group of friends is sending him. Callous bastard.

"He is _smiling_ like he doesn't care, because he _doesn__'__t_. He literally does _not _care about anybody but himself, and maybe his shitty friends! No wonder he and Gilbert are so close. Really, fuck them—"

"C'mon, Liz, _chill_," Bella cuts in, patting the brunette's back in order to somehow placate her, never mind the fact that she, too, is eyeing Antonio with distaste. Then she turns to give Lovino a glance as if to say, _I told you so_.

The blond was so _certain _Antonio was bad news from the start— and as it turns out, he really was! She was right! Though, still, she felt bad for whomever Antonio had his eyes on at the moment. At least it wasn't Feliciano anymore!

* * *

"Oh, yeah," Lovino speaks up, eyes trained on his phone. He had broken the temporary silence that had fallen over them, after a _very _heated discussion regarding fuckboys and backstabbing ex-best friends.

The expression on his face was undeniable. Cheeks lightly flushed and a goofy grin threatening to take over his face, Bella instantly knew, without a doubt, that Lovi was talking to Allistor. _So _cute. Really! Allistor and Lovino were definitely **#relationshipgoals**.

"I'm going to have lunch with Allistor. Guess I'll see you guys later." The Italian says slowly, distractedly, the tips of his thumbs flying across the screen of his phone as he typed in a response.

The Belgian rolled her eyes playfully. "_Again_?"

"Yes, _again_," Lovino confirmed, the smirk on his face betraying his sardonic tone.

And sure enough, within mere moments, Allistor comes into view. He's briskly walking towards them from the general direction of the Performing Arts Department.

They don't see Antonio glowering at the back of Allistor's head, his friends trying to capture his attention once more.

Lovino wastes no time and meets the Scotsman halfway with a chaste kiss, but Allistor cups the Italian's reddening cheeks as he pulls away, then deepens it into a quick snog.

Antonio flinches and stares at his hands.

"Hey, Lov," Allistor breathes out, beaming at him. He reaches down and takes Lovino's hand in his own, lips ghosting over the Italian's knuckles and smiling at him. "How was yer day? Ah missed yeh lots."

"It was okay, I guess," Lovino murmurs, quick to pull his hand away as his face reddened. Instead he laces their fingers together as they head for the campus gates. "I've got a shit ton of projects to do though, so I'm really fucking stressed right now." He pauses to think of everything he needs to get done and he sighs. "What do you wanna have for lunch?"

"Ah'll be honest with yeh, Lov. Ah'm good with anything, A'm jus' thankful Ah got time ta 'ave lunch with yeh in th' first place."

Right. About that. Honestly, Lovino and Allistor haven't been able to spend as much time together lately, especially with Lovino's work piling one on top of the other, and Allistor focussing on his final production as a student in EHU. As for the freshmen helping out at the Performing Arts Department, a shift in their schedule saw them helping out on the weekends instead.

Many students bemoaned the sudden change in routine, but Lovino never took it for granted.

In the end, they settled for a quick lunch at Starbucks since Allistor was a bit pressed on time, even on his break. The couple took their usual seat by the windows, near the door, the brown leather couches familiar to them.

As usual, Allistor ordered black coffee, grande and with exactly five sugars and four creamers, whilst Lovino got a venti caramel macchiato. They had settled themselves in their seats, Lovino discreetly watching Allistor stir his coffee until the sugar had dissolved. Briefly he wondered what he did to deserve to be with such a k-_kind_ and _caring_ person.

Honestly, he couldn't see himself with anybody else. He didn't _want _to either.

He _knew _it hadn't been that long since they got together, but already Allistor meant _so much _to him. It was like he knew, without a doubt, in his heart, that Allistor would be the only one for him.

"_Ti amo_," Lovino says suddenly, prompting the redhead to stop stirring his coffee and stare at him. His lovely Italian boyfriend.

Allistor smiles warmly, setting the wooden stirrer down on a serviette as he leant in a little closer. "Ah love yeh too, Lov—"

A shrill tune cuts through the moment like a knife. The Scot's eyebrows are raised as he stares at his phone ringing, right by Lovino's, which they had set to the side of the table. Lovino stares at it too, but before he can read the caller ID (it _was _upside down after all), Allistor's snatched it off the table and he looks sheepish this time.

"Excuse me, luv, Ah'll just take this," he says, pecking Lovino's forehead before exiting Starbucks.

Lovino stares at him through the window, brows furrowed slightly. He wonders who it is, and if everything's alright. It's nearing ten minutes by the time Allistor's done with his call, and he re-enters the café with apologies spilling from his lips.

"Who _was _that?" Lovino asks, not without a tinge of irritation. He's already finished more than half of his chicken wrap while waiting for him.

"Oh. It was an international call. A schoolmate of mine. We only catch up every so often. Sorry."

Guilt seizes Lovino's gut, and he stares down at his hands. "Oh."

It's quiet, _painfully _quiet, between them for a few moments before Lovino speaks up again. "M-Maybe— Maybe you could show your friend the wonders of Skype!"

Allistor chuckles and they begin to joke around.

Everything felt right in the world once again.

* * *

Lovino really should've seen it coming.

And he had, really; he'd seen it coming from a mile away. Yet with all the things going on in his life, it'd managed to escape his thoughts up until vibrant neon flyers started popping up everywhere, covering every possible and vertically-upright surface.

It was inevitable; participation, imminent.

Ah, yes. It was roughly two weeks before the end of October.

Soon enough, it'd be Halloween.

Knowing EHU had a knack for hosting events— a world-class school would need world-class parties, after all— it was of no surprise to the Italian that the institution would have an event of sorts to accompany the occasion.

Snatching a hot pink flyer right off of a random locker, he skimmed through the leaflet and caught sight of beautiful, _beautiful_words like 'open bar', 'sponsored by Smirnoff', and 'Official Venue Partner: The Black Box', and in that instant, he knew it'd be a _really good _night.

_Ding!_

Lovino blinks once, twice. Then he fumbles around for his phone in the back pocket of his jeans. It's a text from Bella.

**Bella: Have you heard about the Halloween party yet?**

Lovino's eyebrows immediately shot up in surprise. Her timing was… pretty fucking on point! In fact, it had briefly crossed his mind that there was a possibility that maybe, _some_how, Bella was spying on him from a distance.

…Nah. No way. She would totally rather ask him in person. Really, whenever she ran into him in campus while they were walking to different classes, even if she were across the courtyard, she'd make her way over to him just to say hi.

He wouldn't put spying past Elizabeta though.

…Let's just say it wasn't the first time he's caught her spying on him and Allistor like some sort of psychotic stalker.

_Ding!_

**Bella: Do you have a costume already? :D**

The Italian snorted. Of _course _Bella would automatically assume he'd be going.

Well— not that she'd be entirely _wrong_. That is, as of now anyways. He's not the anti-social hermit he used to be. Even though he _is_ still somewhat… averseto strangers. Or people in general.

It was pretty damn ironic how the people around him were the happiest and most outgoing people he knew, Allistor included. The Scotsman had a lot of friends around EHU. Whenever they would walk together in campus, Allistor would always see a friend or an acquaintance of his lingering about in the hallways.

He shrugs the thought away and heaves a laboured sigh as he texts Bella a concise 'no'. Being sociable took a lot out of him, to be honest. Sometimes, he just wanted to distance himself from everyone and stay quiet for a while. Take the time to either stew in his own thoughts or not think at all.

It was as if he missed the loneliness he used to feel.

But he didn't, really; at least, he didn't think so. No one would ever want to feel that way, right? It was weird though— for the thoughts that once ran rampant through his mind to gradually ebb away the more he opened himself up to others. Allistor and Bella, especially.

Maybe, perhaps, it was because he was so unused to these new feelings and emotions, that to not constantly feel alone or not good enough for anyone anymore felt more out of place than anything.

He briefly wondered if he could get used to feeling this way.

* * *

Antonio felt terrible. He couldn't focus, he couldn't think straight, he couldn't function— he really couldn't fathom _why _he was feeling something akin dread bubbling up the pit of his stomach. There were these terrible pangs in his chest and he felt his stomach lurch.

It took everything in him just to get to his next— and thankfully, _last_— class. For the nth time since midday, he took his phone out and skimmed the notifications, not a single one coming from the _one_ person he wanted to talk to.

See, Lovino and Antonio began texting each other a few days ago. The Spaniard had bugged Lovi over and over for his number, until finally, the older Vargas relented. Since Lovino was always on his phone, he always replied. _Always_.

But this time, Lovino's been _ignoring _him for some reason. The text Antonio sent him had been marked as read since noon, when the two of them were sitting on opposite sides of the courtyard. What did he do? What did he do wrong? Did he upset Lovino somehow?

Seeing Lovi and Allistor together hadn't helped his mood any either (it never did). Even if they _were _hanging out together, _surely_ Lovino would have replied by now, right?

He was sorely tempted to send another text, but decided against it. He'd probably annoy Lovino even more, and that was the last thing he wanted.

Maybe he was just busy.

Yes, that's it. Lovino was probably busy with something important right now—

_Thump-thump._

Antonio's heart skips a beat as he finds Lovino a few feet in front of him. There's a flyer for the annual Halloween party in his hand, and he's engrossed with his phone.

So maybe he wasn't busy after all.

He licks his lips and swallows, his throat suddenly dry. Before he realises it, he's right in front of Lovino.

"H-Hey, Lovi," Antonio rasps out, sincerely hoping Lovino didn't catch the sliver of nervousness in his tone.

He didn't.

"Hm?" Lovino hums distractedly, looking up at whomever was speaking to him. He stares at him evenly, and that's what unnerves Antonio, somewhat. Nonetheless, it takes a conscious effort for him not to get too distracted by Lovi's eyes. "Oh. Hey."

Antonio manages a small smile and motions to the flyer in Lovino's other hand, "You going to the Halloween party? It'll be fun!"

Lovino's gaze languidly falls to the paper in his hand and he shrugs. A smirk crosses his lips. "Who knows? Parties aren't usually my thing, but my friends will probably make me go with them if I try to refuse."

"Maybe we can hang out then!" Antonio chirps, feigning a cheerful tone. That doesn't mean he isn't happy, no. But it is mainly relief that floods him when he finds that Lovino doesn't seem to be angry or upset with him. Everything is alright.

"Yeah," Lovino's eyes snap back up to meet his again, and he falls a little bit harder. "Maybe."

_Ding!_

He glances down at his phone before looking up at Antonio again. "Look, I gotta go. See you around." He raises a hand up to Antonio's shoulder, hovering an inch away from his skin for a moment or two before awkwardly patting it.

"I'll text you later," Antonio calls out, beaming at the Italian already making his way down the hall.

Lovino merely throws a hand up in response.

* * *

"Does this outfit make me look fat?"

Lovino stops scrolling through Instagram for a moment before looking up at Bella. They're at this weirdly high-end (and somewhat adult) costume shop a few towns away, and she's been trying on outfit after outfit ever since they got here around an hour ago.

She's tried the staple Wonder Woman outfit, a French maid outfit, a _Japanese _maid outfit (ft. furry cat ears), and a series of _other _one-piece spandex get-ups. And now she had a Red Riding Hood costume on.

Her hood was nearly floor-length, but the off-white peasant top she was wearing revealed more than an ample amount of cleavage, accentuated by a brown leatherette bustier hugging her torso. It looked like a fancy waist trainer more than anything, really. Her black high waist skirt fell just below her thighs, and the tan, lace-up boots she was wearing suited her really well.

She looked gorgeous and she knew it. Lovino knew it too. He just had a hunch that she wanted him to say it out loud.

"Nah, it doesn't," he says. "You look great, as usual. Just like the last three billion outfits you tried on."

"So you're definitely _sure _I don't look fat?" She asks once more, admiring her reflection in the mirror. _Dio_, Bella could be hella vain when she wanted to. Then again, Lovino had his moments as well.

"I am _definitely sure _you don't look fat," he confirms adamantly, rolling his eyes. "Now just pick something so we can pay for it and go! I'm _hungry_, dammit!"

She gives him an odd look, turning to face him. "Aren't you going to pick something too?"

Lovino's brows furrow. "What makes you think I'm actually going?"

She stomps her foot on the ground and pouts at him. "Lovi~"

A groan escaped his lips. "_What_, dammit?"

The blonde crosses her arms over her chest and looks at him disapprovingly. "Do we _really _have to go through this again? You are _going _to that party with us, mister, and you are going to pick a costume _right now_, so we can go grab some lunch!"

Lovino gave her a look. "I left my credit card at home— _oof!_"

Bella flops right on top of Lovino's lap, a playful smile on her lips as she ignored the glare Lovi sent her. "_I__'__m _paying. You can treat me to lunch. And mani/pedis the day of the party~!"

"Oh my God," the Italian groans out, rubbing his face as he leant back on the plush black couch facing the mirrors. "It's like I'm your sugar daddy 2.0, only without the added benefits. You aren't going to get off of my back unless I do this, aren't you?"

"Yep! And I can stay here _all day_. I had waffles before you picked me up this morning."

He glares at her before he grumbles numerous expletives under his breath, getting up from the couch to approach the nearest rack for men. He skims past all the different types of costumes, expressionless. Just because Bella was paying for his costume didn't mean he had to enjoy it, dammit. Literally _all _he wanted to do was eat, go home and take a siesta, and maybe swing by campus so he could see his boyfriend.

Thanks to this little discrepancy, siesta time would be cut down to damn near nothing. _Great_.

Lovino growls in irritation once more as he pulls out several satin hangers and heads for the dressing room. And with every fucking outfit he put on, the more his temper flared. Everything was fucking _huge _on him, dammit— didn't they have clothes in a smaller size? Is he _that fucking tiny_?!

_No_, he isn't— so why won't jack shit fit on him, dammit?!

He scowled at his reflection in the mirror, the cabin boy outfit on him looking as _baggy _as ever— or was it supposed to be baggy? Maybe the pirate crew starved him, those fucking pieces of for the first time, he kinda understood why Feliciano wanted him to eat more. Not so he could fit into various Halloween costumes, per se, but maybe to _not _look like a gust of wind could blow him over.

The knight armour didn't do him any favours, either. Shit was too huge, he could barely see over the helmet, and additionally, shit was heavy as fuck. Like _hell _he was going to lug this shit around a _party_. Fuck no!

Then there was the Slenderman costume. He was… too s-_short _for that, what the hell?! God, how tall does a person need to be to _wear _a fucking costume? And most importantly— _how was he going to eat_? And drink? This costume basically says, fuck you. Fuck your hunger _and _your thirst. Fuck that open bar you've been looking forward to. Stay sober, children.

Lovino worked his way out of the Slenderman costume, stumbling in the general direction of the dressing room again. Bella got off the couch and she started looking around for something Lovi could wear.

"Since I can't find anything to wear," Lovino began, taking a moment to glance at his reflection. He trails a hand down the barely visible muscles on his stomach. Huh. He _was _on the skinny side a bit, yeah… Maybe he could hit the gym sometime? Build up on some muscle? He snorts. No way in hell. He's too lazy for that. "Why don't we go ahead and have lunch?"

"Nope!" Bella replies, voice startling louder than he expected it to be. He flinches and turns to see the blonde holding up a hanger. "Try it! This should be about your size."

Lovino looks at the admittedly very _flimsy_ piece of white cloth and frowns. "The fuck is that? A rag?"

The Italian takes the hanger from her grasp and stares at it for one second, two seconds…

He thrusts the hanger back into her arms. "No."

"But Lovi!" Bella whines—

"I said no! Why?! Why would you want me to wear that?!"

"But Lovi, it's a _Roman costume_!"

"The fuck kinda Roman costume—for _men_, mind you— ends _here_?!" He screeches back, bending down slightly to motion to somewhere around two inches or so above his knees with his hands. "Dammit, Bella, I maybe gay, but I'm still a man!"

"It's cute though! And if you don't get a costume now, when will you get the time to? This may very well be the only costume in this place that is Lovi-size friendly!"

Lovino grunts. "That's because this costume shop sucks ass. I'll just look for something on Amazon later, so can we just eat already?"

"**No**. You _have _to try it first. You never know, you might like it!"

The Vargas gives her a deadpan, if a bit weary, expression. "I '_have_' to try it."

"Yes," Bella affirms, smiling at him. "You _have _to."

He stares at her for several seconds before taking the hanger back and pushing her out of the tiny cubicle. "Get out."

As Bella's footsteps faded out of hearing range, Lovino inspected the costume at arm's length. It was like finely woven gossamer between his fingers. In a small bag attached to it were various gold arm cuffs, and a gold belt. Sighing, he shrugged off his jeans and put on the Roman costume instead.

As much as he hated to admit it, Bella was actually right. It _did _fit him. Perfectly. Which was somewhat unbelievable, given the shitty luck he had trying to find something that actually fit him a while ago. And… it didn't look that bad!

He pulled at the hem, trying to see how far down it could go without making him look awkward. His boxers were too long for it, but he could always wear boxer briefs with it. Swallowing whatever left he had of his pride, he begrudgingly made his way to where Bella was waiting, trying to make sure he didn't seem like he liked it _too _much (read: at _all_).

"It's okay, I guess," he mutters, glancing down at his feet as he tried his best to ignore the flustered burning of his cheeks.

To his surprise, Bella didn't immediately shower him with compliments. Instead, she gave him a glance-over and a sincere smile. "It looks great!" She grabbed something shiny off of the end table beside the couch and sauntered over to him. "I found some accessories to go with it too!"

She clasped a gold bejewelled choker around his neck and adjusted it carefully. Then she got a wreath made out of gold laurel leaves and set it down on his head.

"What do I look like?" He asks, raising an eyebrow at her.

"You look fresh outta the Roman Empire," She chirps, turning him to face the mirror.

He hums, examining himself from other angles. "Hmm. True."

"Do you like it?"

He stays silent for several moments, just to bait and revel in Bella's growing anticipation. "It's _okay_, I guess," he says finally, and he tries not to scoff at the ebullience in her expression.

"See? I told you so! Okay, so now we have to find you some sandals…"

The two go about the store and pick out some sandals for Lovino to wear with his outfit. After what seems like an eternity, they finally, _finally _pay for their costumes and they have lunch at a bijou restaurant not many knew about. It was one of the hidden finds Lovino had discovered after nights of aimless driving around at night when he was still in high school.

The restaurant, French, was relatively near the house he and Feliciano used to live in before they moved to their new apartment near EHU. But even then, their move would be temporary. The apartment's just for rent, and when the twins both graduate, they'd most likely be moving back to their old house if ever they don't have a job right away. And knowing his course, Lovino _knows _he won't have a job right off the bat. Feliciano's already made plans to pursue a master's in art in a school in Italy, or maybe look for an apprenticeship. He's talked it over with _Nonno_ already via Skype.

Let's just say Lovino didn't really like thinking about the future.

* * *

Okay, so _maybe _Lovino should've thought about what he was going to wear on Halloween instead of buying something right on the spot. Maybe he could have said no to Bella when she insisted he get the Roman costume.

Maybe he really should've scoured online for a costume instead.

Then again, maybe Lovino should have also considered these options earlier instead of on the night of the party.

If he did, maybe he wouldn't have been shivering in the cold of the night, pulling the flimsy piece of shit over his legs lest his gonads turn into frozen prunes. Oh, God. Boxer briefs were _definitely _not enough to keep his family jewels warm.

He briefly glanced over his shoulder, contemplating on grabbing a hoodie from upstairs for the umpteenth time. But what if— what _if_ Bella's car rolled in just as he went up? The particular train of thought was the very same one that kept him from going up for the past half hour either. He felt pretty silly standing alone like this, dressed in a slutty costume and all. Never mind it was nearly nine-thirty PM and no one was around. Probably because they were all at The Black Box. Majority of the people who lived here were students in EHU after all.

_Fucking dammit_, what the hell was taking her so long?!

That's it. He was getting a hoodie _now_.

Just as he turned to go back to the penthouse, the roar of an engine quickly approached his building and sure enough, he heard Bella's voice going, "Oh my Goooood—"

Lovino stops dead in his tracks for a second, whipping his head around to glare at Bella, who was in the passenger seat of Elizabeta's SUV. The window was rolled down, so he could hear Bella's voice cutting through the crisp, peaceful silence with almost _painful _clarity, "I am _so sorry_, Lovi! You look great!"

Elizabeta glanced over at him, nodding appreciatively at Lovino's getup. "That's hot. Allistor will _literally _rip that right off you when he sees that—"

"Shut up, Liz!" Lovino growled out, getting in the back of her car and slamming the door shut. "What the hell took you so long? I was freezing my nuts off!"

"Maybe Allistor can warm them up for you—"

Lovino punches the back of Elizabeta's headrest, eliciting an angry 'hey!'. Bella glances back at him and winces sheepishly. "Sorry! I lost track of time while getting ready. Here."

He blinks and glances down at her outstretched hand before he takes the flask out of her grasp and twists the cap off. He sniffs at the contents and wrinkles his nose at how strong the smell is. Nonetheless, he takes a swig of the liquor, Jack Daniels burning a trail down his throat before settling in the pit of his stomach. Blinking away the half-formed tears in his eyes, within moments, the burning subsides and he starts to feel better.

"She's right though," Liz speaks up after a beat. "She even contoured her boobs."

"…That's just… Wow. The answer to a question I never asked."

"They look great now, though!" Bella retorts, staring at her bosom under the light of the passing lampposts. "They're, like, really defined now."

Lovino coughs into his hand before he thumps the back of Elizabeta's seat again. "What's _your _costume though?"

"Oh," Liz hums, patting the back of her starchy, short blond wig. "I'm going as Julia Roberts in the movie _Pretty Woman_. Roddy's going as Richard Gere."

"So basically you're going as a hooker."

There was a moment of silence before Bella burst out laughing and Elizabeta blindly tries to hit Lovino with her fist. "It's true though!" Lovino argues in between bouts of laughter, pushing her hand back.

* * *

It's about half-past ten when Lovino, Bella and Elizabeta finally arrive at The Black Box. Antonio only knows this because he asked Lovino— the one person who he truly looked forward to seeing tonight. Immediately, Antonio downs the rest of his second mojito, and with a somewhat encouraging pat on the back from Francis (Gilbert was still out on the dance floor with… with Mike? Max? Mark?), he slides off the barstool he's sitting on for the past thirty minutes and wanders towards the entrance of the venue.

Sure enough, he sees Lovino there, and his heart skips a beat.

Leave it to the Italian to look so handsome; so _breathtaking_. Lovi was wearing a Roman costume, one with elaborate folds and fringes, which hung loosely over his lithe body, and ended a few inches above his knees. Antonio gulped, his mouth suddenly dry.

He must've been staring too long, too quietly, because Lovino then scoffs, hints of a smirk tracing his lips. "What's up with you? Is it because you think I look so cool, huh, you bastard?"

It takes a second for Antonio to blink out of his reverie, laughing (albeit a bit sheepishly) and waving his hands before him. "Ahaha~ You must really fond of Ancient Rome!"

Lovino scoffs, hands on his hips. "Nope. It has _nothing _to do with some secret, innate fondness I may have for Ancient Rome." And then he smirks, and Antonio internally swoons at the sight, "It's just that the only thing that fits my beautiful, supple body is this Roman costume, can't you see?"

Oh. Oh, yes.

Antonio could _definitely _see that.

He beams as he stole another lingering glance at Lovi's costume (and figure). Such a beautiful and supple body indeed.

Suddenly, Lovi lightly pushes Antonio's shoulder back, bringing the Spaniard out of yet another Lovi-induced Trance™. "Oi, why aren't you saying anything? Stop smiling like that, you fuckin' bastard!"

And Antonio just laughs, completely enamoured with the Italian standing before him. "Ah, sorry, Lovi— you're just so _cute_!"

Lovi's face flushes red even under the dim lights, and he half-heartedly punches Antonio's arm. Half-heartedly, because Antonio knows how strong Lovi's actual punches can be. From personal experience.

The Italian then steps back, eyes glazing over Antonio's form. "You're a pirate?"

"Yep! I even have a sword, see?" Antonio pulls the fake sword out of its holster, and Lovino squints at it.

"They let you pass security with that?"

"It's made out of plastic, it's _perfectly _safe!" Antonio argues, running his thumb over the blunt edge of the toy.

"Not if I stab you in the eye with it," Lovino murmurs thoughtfully.

Antonio pauses and gapes at Lovino, who laughs at his own… joke? Ah, no offence, _really_, but what was he laughing at again?

"Whatever, dammit, let's just get a drink."

And to Antonio's surprise, Lovino reaches out and grabs him by the wrist before leading him to one of the bars nearby. His heart's nearly beating out of his chest, and his face is so red, if it weren't for the strobe lights darting around them, it'd be dead obvious he was blushing.

"You've been here before?" He shouts over the music, hoping Lovi wouldn't let go.

Most of the partygoers are busy having the time of their lives, but several random people they pass _do _notice them, and curiously eye the way Lovino is dragging him somewhere.

"'Course I have, dammit. I was here for the grand opening with Allistor, though I haven't been back here since."

"Oh." Of course. Of _course_ he'd have been here with Allistor. They _are _together after all.

Was Antonio feeling bitter?

Ah. Yes.

But only little bit.

Really.

As Lovino orders a zombie for himself, Antonio opts to get a strawberry daiquiri.

"To Halloween," Antonio says as they briefly clink their glasses together.

"To open bar," Lovino concurs.

They linger by the bar for a while, just talking, just catching up on whatever Antonio felt needed to be caught up, and making comments on other peoples' costumes as they passed by.

Either Antonio managed to make his daiquiri last longer, or Lovi was a fast drinker. It didn't take long for the Italian to finish drinking his zombie— "It's only a warm-up for me," he says— and get a head start on stronger drinks, like gin and tonic, and whiskey on the rocks.

Antonio can't understand it.

He knows Lovi drinks enough to pass out in random bushes, but he never would've thought that Lovi would prefer hard liquor to actual _good _tasting drinks, like margaritas and cocktails! At least Jack cola.

"You really like drinking that?" Antonio asks. "It's so bitter!"

Lovino nods once before grabbing a shot of vodka lined with salt and downing it in one go. His eyes are squeezed shut, and there are tears threatening to fall. Slamming the cup down, he takes a slice of lime and quickly bites into it. Once he's done, he turns to Antonio. "Trust me, no alcohol is as bitter as my soul."

And then he laughs, slapping his own knee.

_Dios_, Antonio could never get enough of Lovino's intoxicating laugh. Unconsciously, he leans in, eyes beseeching and searching the Italian's. Admittedly, it would have worked better if Lovi wasn't too busy laughing at what he said.

And if he were single.

Lovino suddenly grows quiet, fingers darting across the screen of his phone. He sends one text. Two texts. Out of the corner of Antonio's eye, he sees Allistor's name at the top of the screen with a sparkly heart emoji beside it.

Oh.

The Spaniard waits for Lovino to finish up texting and put his phone back in this small leather satchel of sorts Antonio's only noticed now, before he speaks up again. "So what do you want to do next?"

Lovino ponders on this for several moments, jogging his left knee, before he gets off the barstool he's sitting on and turns to Antonio, grinning mischievously. "Let's dance."

Emerald eyes widen in surprise as Antonio, for the nth time, gawks at the erratic Italian who was now pulling him towards the sea of people clad in costumes of all colours, shapes and sizes. The shock from _that _only lasts a moment up until he realises that, _yes_, their fingers are laced together. He hopes his palms don't sweat, even though he knows they're already damp. He tightens his grip on Lovino's hand a fraction as they fast approached the front of the dancefloor, where the DJ table was. _His hand is soft, _Antonio notes, and the spaces between his fingers fit his own. Even then, Lovino's hand was smaller than his— or maybe Antonio just had really big hands. Amidst winding their way through the crowd, Antonio realised that no one could really see that their fingers were laced together unless they stopped dancing to stare at their hands.

Then Lovino stops somewhere suddenly, and turns to face him. The lights are casting shadows on the Italian's face, and Antonio can't help but feel the sweat lining the rim of his pirate hat, and how his coat clings to his arms like a second skin. He is suddenly aware of the intensity of Lovino's gaze, and the sweating of his itching palms. Maybe it's the alcohol; maybe it's love— but Antonio can't help but feel like the room revolves only around the both of them.

Lovino, who's already more than intoxicated, wastes no time in losing himself to the music, moving his body to every pulsating beat and throwing his arms up in the air. Every time there's a bass drop, the paint cannons up front and along the sides shoot out coloured powder, dyeing Lovino's once pristine ivory white Roman costume fuchsia, orange, red and yellow. Antonio wants nothing more but to pull Lovino flush against him, but he doesn't. He keeps a respectful distance and he doesn't want to jeopardise anything if Lovino took it the wrong way.

After what seemed like a short amount of time, Lovino is keen on getting himself another drink. So they head for a bar near the stage, where there are more and more people getting drunker by the minute. There's a lounge area where a hookah is set up on the low coffee table, and there are several people around it taking turns and passing the tube around.

When Antonio turns to look at Lovino, he sees him on his phone busily texting again. Antonio blinked in realisation. Come to think of it, why hadn't Allistor come? Well, not that he was complaining or anything. Lovi had basically ditched his friends to spend time with him, after all (_They fucking hate you, _he remembers Lovi saying). Though he felt smug because of that, deep inside, he knew nobody would ever hold a candle to Allistor in terms of priority to Lovino. Except for Bella and Feliciano, probably. Maybe.

Instead of heading for the bar, Lovino instead veers off to the side. Antonio is quick to follow him, nudging the Italian's elbow. "Where are we going? I thought you wanted a drink."

"I'm going up front," Lovino says only loud enough for Antonio to hear, eyes still focussed on his phone even as he sidestepped several drunk schoolmates with relative accuracy and efficiency. There's a smile on his face, and it's one that's much more genuine and sincere— one that he gets only when he talks to one person and one person only. "My boyfriend's on his way here, so I'll wait for him outside."

"I'll go with you!" Antonio says quickly.

"You already are," Lovi responds.

* * *

The autumn air is cold when they step outside of The Black Box. Most times, people only went outside when they needed some fresh air or to smoke a cigarette, even though there was, however, a section in the VIP area that permitted smoking. Lampposts and shrubbery aside, there are these low walls that fence the building in. It's low enough to sit on, but high enough to leave most peoples' legs dangling inches above the floor. There are others outside, smoking and having a beer together as they leaned over the fences.

The wind hits Lovino like a ton of bricks, his bare arms and legs especially taking the brunt of the chill. He shivers and rubs at the bumps rising on his skin. This doesn't go amiss. Within seconds, Antonio is shrugging his vibrant red coat off and offering it to Lovino, who refuses. But still, Antonio insists Lovino take it, or else.

"'Or else' what?" Lovino challenges, up until a strong gust of wind nearly blows his costume up à la Marilyn Monroe. He yanks the coat right out of Antonio's hands, a string of curses leaving his lips as his face grew a flustered red.

"Aww, you're so cute, Lovi!" Antonio exclaims, laughing as he does so.

"I'm not! Stop calling me 'cute', dammit," Lovino grumbles in response, shrugging the red velveteen coat on. Immediately, warmth envelops him, and he brings the coat around him even tighter.

They stay silent for a while. Lovino, waiting for Allistor to arrive; Antonio, revelling in the sight of Lovino wearing his coat. The night so far was amazing. They danced together and Antonio finally knew what it was like to hold Lovino's hand. His cheerful demeanour dampens slightly when he remembers why he is with Lovino right now in the first place. He is here to keep him company while he waits for his boyfriend. Antonio's eyes darken as he looks down at his hands.

Lovino tries to get up and sit on the fence, and he struggles a bit. When Antonio offers to help him, Lovino says he doesn't need it, but plants his hand on Antonio's shoulder for a boost anyway.

"Goddammit, I hate being this short," Lovino mumbles, placing his hands down on the cool marble and closing his eyes. "You know Feliciano's taller than me, right? It's like he gets all the good genes."

Antonio looks up at the expression on Lovino's face and examines him carefully. He moves closer, Lovino's legs dangling on either side of him. "I wouldn't say that," the Spaniard says carefully, taking a deep breath and pushing the sepulchral thoughts out of his head. His heart feels like it's being torn into two, but never mind.

Lovino's eyes snap open and he looks at Antonio accusingly, hazel eyes narrowed. He opens his mouth to say something, but then he closes it and says nothing.

"Really," Antonio insists, but he has a hunch that Lovino doesn't believe him. Maybe if he were someone more important in Lovino's life, like Bella or Allistor, he would be more inclined to believe him. But he's not, and he's not sure if he ever will be.

Okay. Bad thoughts. Bad thoughts again.

Gotta get them out of his system, because the atmosphere between them right now is a bad kind of sober.

Antonio smiles encouragingly at him. "Well, being short isn't always a bad thing! You can just say you're fun-sized!"

That elicits a snort. "'_Fun-sized_'?" Lovino echoes, expression incredulous.

"Yeah!" Antonio chirps. "Or maybe 'big things come in small packages'."

Lovino hits him in the shoulder with his fist, laughing raucously. "You cheesy bastard."

The tense air dissipates, and they go back to talking, and joking around. Lovi sure doesn't seem like it, but if you get to know him better, you'll see that he's actually quite talkative! Really!

He enjoyed listening to Lovi talk, how his Italian accent would sometimes become more prominent with some words more than others. The way he went at lengths with describing a few antics he'd done before in a party he once went to, or how the treble of Feliciano's voice would often reach its extremes when he was ranting in exasperation, lecturing him about useless shit over and over again.

Lovino said it sounded like Feli inhaled the contents of a helium balloon, and how it was funny as fuck at times ("Imagine a chipmunk drilling corny inspirational quotes into your brain.") but it'd grate on his nerves during others ("Imagine a chipmunk lecturing you how to make friends.") More often than not, Lovino would paint him a vivid picture of what was going on, and in his mind's eye, he could see it oh-so clearly.

He could see in little glimpses how this made Lovi such a good storyteller. Maybe he'd get to read something of Lovi's one day.

The sound of someone clearing their throat cuts through their laughter, and Antonio's blood runs cold the moment his eyes meet Allistor's. _Shit_. Well— It wasn't like they were doing anything wrong, but he had to admit, he and Lovino were in a rather… _intimate_position. But hopefully, Allistor wouldn't think anything of it, right?

Lovino immediately turns to face his boyfriend, a grin on his face as he jumped off the fence, hurrying over to him. "Hey, you're here! You took forever, dammit." With this, Lovino in his high-spirits, wraps his arms around Allistor's torso and buries his face into the Scotsman's chest.

Allistor wraps his arm around Lovino protectively, eyes still locked with Antonio's. "Yeah, practise ran a wee bit late this time, Lov."

Lovino pulls away and his face reddens tenfold when he realises what Allistor is wearing.

"Is… Is that a kilt?"

Allistor grins down at him. "Mmhm!"

"God, that's pretty hot." Lovino murmurs, running a hand down Allistor's chest.

"Yeh aren't looking to bad yerself, luv," Allistor murmurs. There's a hidden implication in his words and it doesn't take long for Lovino to put two and two together. "'Ow about we 'ave a drink, Ah greet some of my friends real quick, and yeh come over ta my place?"

Lovino stares into Allistor's eyes. He's about 200% sure his face is practically glowing red, but fuck it. He smirks. "Netflix and chill?"

Allistor smiles coyly, kissing Lovino's knuckles. "Mmhm. What do yeh say, Lov?"

He stays silent for several moments before he heads towards the building, pulling Allistor with him. "Let's hurry up, dammit!"

Just as Lovino enters The Black Box once more, Allistor excuses himself for a second, stepping back out to look at Antonio. Their gazes meet. He smiles evenly. "Stay th' fuck away from me boyfriend, mate."

Antonio can do nothing but stare at the Scot's retreating back, hopelessness seizing his gut.

* * *

**Translations:**

_Grazie a Dio _\- Thank God (It.)  
_Ti amo _\- I love you (It.)  
_Dio _\- God (It.)  
_Nonno _\- grandfather (It.)  
_Dios _\- God (Esp.)

**Hey guys. I've rewritten this numerous times before I finally found a writing style I was content with, as well as the content itself, hence the delay.**

**In other news, I've found Lovino's school of thought, especially in reference to the first chapter. It is one that rivals existentialism, really.**

**Existentialism focusses on asking oneself questions such as, 'What is the purpose of human existence?' and 'Why do I exist?'. A school of modern thought regards these questions as nonsensical in the sense that they are unanswerable; therefore, there is no point in asking them.**

**A more gruesome extension to that is to prove oneself as his own godhead (for those who are atheists), master of their fate, one must kill himself [as seen is Dostoevsky's _The Devils_].**

**For Lovino, he sees himself merely existing for the sake of his brother. And not even in an important sense, either. When Feliciano won't 'need' him anymore, it would render his 'purpose' and, thus, existence obsolete. All and any attempts by him to find his purpose in life would be futile, because inevitably, he will die.**

**Which leads me to this question I ask you: whenever you read of Lovino or of Antonio's thoughts, thoughts that are somewhat philosophical, do you ever ponder on them also? Or do you just read it as is?**

**Anyways, I hope you guys liked this chapter! As you can see, there is a lot of drama bubbling beneath the surface.**

**Leave a review, _por favor_! Feedback is always appreciated so, sooo much. I can assume that my writing has changed somewhat. I hope y'all still like this story!**

**~jellydonut16~**

**P.S. Expect a more sombre Toni in the next chapter, as well as another small timeskip. Guess what's the next thing getting crossed off the list next chapter!**


	22. twenty-two

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

**Kicking The Bucket List  
**_**twenty-two**_

"_**Take me, take me back to your bed  
**__**I love you so much that it hurts my head  
**__**I don**__**'**__**t mind you under my skin  
**__**I**__**'**__**ll let the bad parts in, the bad parts in**_"  
— _**Degausser**_ **by Brand New**

Shot after shot of vodka straight-up, and Antonio's a downright mess. Emerald eyes are stinging with unshed tears, his throat is burning following the abuse of liquor, and his nose is runny. Dread pools at the pit of his gut like a leaden weight, and no matter how many shots he drinks, he can't ever fully shake it off.

The Spaniard's taken to occupying one of the corner bar stools in The Black Box, suddenly thankful for the open bar to fuel his self-destructive, drunken stupor.

Francis finds him like this, in this near-catatonic state— after having confirmed that Arthur hadn't attended the Halloween party after all— and when he does, he wastes absolutely no time in trying to contact Gilbert. He's cautious approaching the Spaniard, who seemed to have not noticed him— or maybe, perhaps, Antonio _did _notice him, but chose not to acknowledge him— and he observes in wordless concern as Antonio downs another shot. He slams the shot glass down when he's done, face twisted into a painful grimace, and he cradles his head in his hands, curling into himself closer to the table.

"Antonio, what's wrong?" Francis says finally, gingerly placing a hand on his friend's shoulder. The latter does not flinch, nor does he stiffen— perhaps he'd known that Francis was there after all— and he manages a terse shake of the head. His chest heaves.

Francis prods further for answers, but to no avail. Antonio's not speaking. He is sometimes stubborn like this, really— when they all know something is wrong, and Antoine is still insistent on keeping it to himself for as long as humanly possible. Several minutes of futility lapse before Gilbert finally emerges from the crowded dancefloor, a doe-eyed Canadian— Matthew, was it?— trailing close behind him.

"What's wrong? What happened?" Gilbert asks, voice sharp. The cerise of his eyes dart from Antonio to Francis. Then his face scrunches up in realisation. "_Verdammt_, this is about _Lovino_, isn't it? What did he do?"

Once more, Antonio shakes his head and cowers into himself further. Francis sends the German a brief warning glare before leaning in closer to him. "It is far too noisy in here. Perhaps we should bring him outside for fresh air."

And they do just that. They manage to pry Antonio away from the bar, away from the vodka (but not without drinking one last shot), and they nearly have to drag him out of The Black Box. Antonio stumbles forward and leans against one of the fences. The world spins and he still does not speak.

Just as Gilbert is about to open his mouth, Antonio pipes up.

"Allistor… told me to stay the _fuck _away from Lovino," he slurs, yet it doesn't conceal the hurt in his tone. Instead, it amplifies it. His voice cracks as it gives way to a broken sob. "Now I don't know what to do."

"Oh, you _know _what you have to do," Gilbert says. So— so _maybe _Gilbert was right. _Maybe_. So _maybe _Antonio _did _know what he had to do. So what, though? So what if he did?

"I don't want to. Don't you get it? I— I can't, I just can't—" Antonio starts pacing restlessly, running his hands through his damp and sweaty hair, pirate hat long lost in the depths of The Black Box.

"He has a boyfriend already! You have to let him go, _mon ami_," Francis says, offering the Spaniard a sympathetic glance— what do people even do with sympathy? Fuck it, some people seem to thrive on it anyway. "Don't make this harder for yourself."

And then Antonio stops, hands on his hips. He's staring at Francis incredulously, as if he couldn't believe what he's just said. But the Frenchman had a point, which was what Antonio hated the most. "I— I can't do it. I could _never_—"

"But you _can_. It may seem impossible, but it isn't. I know what you're capable of, Antonio, and you're a very strong person—"

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you _are_. I know you are, so you have to do this, okay? You have to do this if you care about him. Do you care about him?"

"_D__í__os_, of _course _I do!"

"Then you have to let him go. Before it really, truly hurts the both of you."

Antonio hated that it made sense. He hated that they were right. _Fuck. _He carded his fingers through his hair once more, trying to make sense of it all. The more he thought about it, the closer he felt to breaking down.

"It'll hurt more if you keep on trying to cling onto someone who doesn't want you, someone who doesn't love you back." Francis continues, firmly grabbing both of Antonio's shoulders. He looks at him solemnly. "_Trust me on this_, Antonio, just please, _trust me_. Because I know from experience."

All of them know whom Francis is referring to, but nobody openly acknowledges it. Francis knew he was already too, too far gone. But for Antonio, it'd only be quick. It was nothing but an infatuation, after all. It'd come to pass soon enough.

"He's right, you know." Gilbert murmurs, rubbing soothing circles onto Antonio's back. "Hey. Why don't we go back inside and have some fun? Find you someone to dance with. It'll help you keep your thoughts off of him."

Antonio processes this and nods reluctantly. "It's not easy getting over someone, you know?" He says, and both Francis and Gilbert share a glance at the irony of his words.

"I know it's not easy," the German continues, patting his back before offering a hand to the Spaniard. "But at least it's a start."

Antonio turns and stares at Gilbert's outstretched hand for several moments, his emerald green eyes dark and undecipherable, before costively taking it. The three lead him back inside The Black Box, and they usher him to the centre of the dancefloor, where one of the more popular DJs in Washington had taken over for the rest of the night. They lose him in the crowd eventually.

It must have worked out for him, since Antonio didn't come home that night.

* * *

Half-past one in the morning, and all is quiet in the Kirkland residence. The Kirklands, consisting of the four Kirkland brothers and their somewhat estranged and enigmatic archaeologist parents, live in a relatively upscale neighbourhood (though nowhere near as grand as the Janssens Manor). It is a safe neighbourhood, a good one, with most families having white-collar jobs or professions in law or medicine, two to three kids, and both parents still married to each other. The neighbourhood children who had gone trick-or-treating earlier were already in their beds, slumber untroubled and hands sticky with candy.

Quarter to two, a dark green Mustang quickly emerges from the distance, having just passed through the neighbourhood's guarded gates. The sound of screeching tires, roaring engines and speakers blaring Def Leppard break the tranquil silence.

Within a minute, then two, it pulls up in front of the Kirkland residence with an abrupt halt, both of its passengers jerking forward for a second. Allistor manoeuvres the gear lever back to parking and leans in to capture his boyfriend's lips in a heated, impassioned kiss.

Lovino wastes no time in kissing back, hands undoing his pesky seatbelt buckle in the dark. In seconds, free from his restraints, Lovino clambers right on top of Allistor's lap and grinds against him, pulling the Scotsman in for a deeper kiss.

Allistor groans and buck his hips forward, hands gripping Lovino's sides tightly. They stay like that for a few more minutes, making out to eighties hair metal, before Allistor finally has the mind to undo his own seatbelt.

Lovino climbs off of him and they get out of the car, hands clasped and their bodies yearning for more than innocent touch. Allistor hastily locks his car and they hurry up the cobblestone driveway to his house.

The Italian had left most of his accessories to his Roman costume in Allistor's car, and instead, dark red and purplish marks adorned his neck instead of a bejewelled choker. The redhead had shed some clothing as well, blazer long forgotten on the floor of his backseat, and the several top buttons of his white dress shirt undone.

They shifted about impatiently as Allistor fumbled around with his house keys. When he finally manages to get the door open, he quickly ushers Lovino in and closes the door behind him.

"Let's go to my room," Allistor says, voice thick with lust and desire.

Lovino's heart skips a beat as he admires the silhouette of his boyfriend's face under the dim lights for a moment, perfection personified, before nodding obsequiously as they hurried up the winding wooden staircase.

* * *

Although Allistor was never one to idly lounge about on the weekends, he had recently discovered the joys of having a nice lie-in with his boyfriend. It was something he indulged in freely.

It wasn't the first time Lovino's spent the night at his house, and Allistor's slept over at Lov's place a few times as well. They didn't always have sex; sometimes, they were more than content with just curling up next to each other. To be frank, it'd been years since Allistor felt this comfortable just _being _with someone like this. It was nice. It was really, really nice.

Allistor shifted a bit to glance over Lov's shoulder. It was nearing daybreak and he could see faded blues and purples giving way to soft oranges and yellows. The Italian was still sleeping soundly beside him as he languidly ran the tips of his fingers up and down along his spine. The redhead then checked for notifications on his phone before shutting the screen off.

He continued his ministrations, watching as his inamorato slept, and soundly. Lov looked peaceful like this— especially with the way his long lashes brushed against the top of his sun-kissed cheeks, the way he looked completely at ease, how the corner of his lips would occasionally quirk upwards. Allistor loved him. He was absolutely _besotted _with the boy. Truly.

He reached down and brought Lovino's hand up to his lips, kissing each and every finger. Lovino roused awake, and Allistor paused, waiting. The Italian stirred, sheets shifting, and he stared up at the redhead through tired hazel eyes half-mast.

Allistor smiles. "Good morning, luv."

Lovino continues staring at him wearily for several moments before burying his face into the Scotsman's chest and heaving a sigh. Allistor automatically drapes his arm over Lovino's waist and they both eventually drift back to sleep.

At least, they were about to until a bloodcurdling shriek had them jolting up wide awake.

* * *

Antonio woke up that morning to the sound of an alarm going off. The alarm was shrill and attacked his ears; he groaned as he brought the duvet over his head. Within seconds, the alarm had been cut short, and the bed shifted. His eyes instantly snapped open.

It was in that moment when Antonio realised that it wasn't _his _alarm that had gone off— it was somebody else's.

Body growing rigid in mortification, his heart started to race against his chest. He could hear the pitter-patter of someone's feet as they walked across the room, away from him.

A door opens then closes. He hears a shower turning on.

…Shit. _Shit! _Antonio felt as if someone had poured a bucket of ice water over him, a foreboding feeling in his gut, really. Even though he doesn't want to, even though he wants nothing more but for the sheets to swallow him whole, he forces himself to peek out of the duvet.

He finds himself in a room not at all familiar to him, and without needing to look under the sheets, he knows he isn't wearing anything. He wracks his mind desperately for the slightest clue as to whom may be in that shower, but he really can't pin it down. His memory of last night was fuggy at best, and missing in some parts— well, when he started hitting the hard liquor, specifically. But his memories of _Lovino_, them dancing, having fun, drinking together— those, he could remember with vivid clarity.

He could practically hear the ice in Allistor's usually amiable tone too. Oh God. Today was _not _off to a good start.

He sits up and immediately, his head begins to ache, like there's a jackhammer incessantly pounding into it. Antonio cradles his head in his hands. His mind is spinning. He peeks through his fingers and the room follows suit. A groan inadvertently escapes his lips as he slowly shakes his head.

"Hey," an unfamiliar voice says, and he visibly flinches.

Fearing the worst, he looks up. "Hi."

"Antonio, right?" The nameless clarifies.

Antonio looks down and nods, "Yes."

"I'm Quentin."

* * *

Antonio stared at him, motionless, for what seemed like a very long time.

Quentin stared back, the lower half of his body covered with a dark blue towel and his chest dripping with water. His eyes are dark, his skin tan (and riddled with hickeys) and his shaggy black hair falls over his eyes.

"The shower's yours. There are clean towels in the cupboard."

"Right," Antonio clears his throat. "Thank you."

"So, uh, I have to get ready for class, but I can give you a ride home if you want."

"I'd appreciate that, thank you."

Quentin nods and walks out, leaving Antonio alone in the room. He almost misses the slight limp in the other's step— _almost_; he wishes he did. The Spaniard immediately makes a beeline for the bathroom and locks the door behind him. Guilt hits him like a freight train, and it takes everything in him too keep himself from hyperventilating and panicking.

It wasn't the first time he's had a one night stand, of course, but they were usually under much different circumstances. This time, however…

He grimaced as a wave of nausea hit him, nearly bringing him to his knees. He retched the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl and felt bad for doing so in the bathroom of someone he didn't even know. Spitting the rancid taste away, he flushed it down and spent the next ten minutes showering whatever they did last night off of him.

Once he was done, he dried himself off and opened the door just a crack to find the bedroom still empty. He sees his clothes from last night in a neatly folded stack at the foot of Quentin's bed. Ashamed, he put them on and exited the bedroom.

* * *

Allistor, who already had his boxers on, was the first one out of the room. Lovino fumbled around the sheets for his own boxer briefs, hurriedly tugging them on and grabbing Allistor's old Guns n' Roses shirt on the way out of the room.

The redhead was already in front of Arthur's room at the end of the hall, and he looked damn near ready to kick the door down if need be. He slammed the door open and found his younger brother gawking at his reflection in the mirror.

Lovino jogged over, glancing into the room and had to cover his mouth to keep himself from snorting. Allistor had gone still as well, the look of worry on his face melting into one of sheepishness.

"My _eyebrows_!" Arthur exclaims, running his hands over the clumsily shaved eyebrows. "What the _bloody hell _happened to my fucking eyebrows!"

Lovino burst out laughing. "You look like shit!"

"Shut up! Shut the fuck up, it's not funny!"

Allistor chuckles into his hand, knowing full well who was responsible for such an atrocity.

_Well_… The thing is, after he and Lov had it off, they didn't immediately go to sleep, no. Instead, they went down and drank a bit more. They drank Bailey's from mum's clair de lune tea cups and made a drunk cooking show centred on the wonders of cooking a hearty porterhouse steak.

Upon seeing Arthur passed out on the couch, probably having fallen asleep after binge watching one too many _Luther _reruns by his lonesome, Lovino had confessed to him that Arthur's eyebrows made him very angry. He wanted to fix the blond's eyebrows, and so in his inebriated state, Allistor helped him.

Armed with a Gillette razor and shaving cream, Lovino clumsily shaved off bits and parts of Arthur's eyebrows off. It really wasn't _that _bad; even as they were both shitfaced drunk, Lov only managed to shave off _so much_, his hand to brow coordination _definitely _not on point.

The moment the youngest Kirkland stirred, however, they were both quick to retreat back to his room. Then they snogged and fooled around a bit more 'til they passed out.

Arthur must've woken up sometime earlier in the morning and went up without noticing _something_ was amiss!

Bottomline, it was dark, they were drunk, and it was an overall very _bad _decision.

And now Arthur was paying for it.

"We can still save them!" Lovino insisted in between bouts of raucous laughter, "I'll— I'll tweeze them for you!"

"_No_, absolutely not!" Arthur cried out, covering his eyebrows protectively as if it'd actually be of any help.

"Aww, don't you want your eyebrows to be on fleek?"

"Oh, sod off, Lovino!" Arthur leans in close to the mirror, inspecting the damage done for what was probably the nth time. "How the hell—"

That's when he suddenly stops and stiffens. He casts a nasty glare in Allistor and Lovino's direction, and the latter laughs even harder. "Oh, you fucking pricks!"

"_Dio_, I am _so sorry_," Lovino howls, finally succumbing to cataplexy and falling to his knees as tears ran down his cheeks. He clasps his hands together as if in prayer. "I can fix it, I swear I can. I-I know! I'll pay to have your eyebrows done at Bene_f_it. Hell, I would _pay _you to let me pay to have your eyebrows done at Bene_f_it."

"…Excuse me, but do you think this is some kind of a bloody joke?"

Lovino finally forces himself to stop laughing for once, and meets Arthur's (still very infuriated) gaze. "Um," a chuckle. "No?"

It didn't fly.

"You _arsehole_! What the fuck are you even doing here, this is _my house_!"

"It's my house too," Allistor speaks up, grinning impishly at the blond.

"Fuck off. And put some bloody clothes on, your indecency is _appalling_ me."

"We're all men here, aren't we?" Allistor retorts, pulling Lovino back up to his feet. "Plus, it's not like it's the first time Lov's stayed over, anyway. C'mon, Lov."

With that, Allistor pulls Lovino back to the direction of his bedroom, leaving the infuriated blond to his own devices.

* * *

"Oh. Can you pull over by that curb over there?"

Quentin nods, his car rolling to a halt in front of Antonio's apartment building. "So this is where you live," he drawls.

Antonio cracks a small smile. "Yeah! Um," he awkwardly clears his throat, turning to face the other man. "Thanks for the ride home."

"It's no problem at all. I was headed for campus anyway."

The Spaniard nods; then undoes his seatbelt. "Okay…"

"Maybe we could go grab some coffee together sometime." Quentin suggests, leaning against his seat as he turned to look at Antonio. He fails to notice how the other stiffens, but on the off chance he did, he didn't point it out.

There's this voice in Antonio's head screaming a flat-out 'NO', but he ignores it in favour of smiling at the stranger next to him. "Sure! When are you free?"

Quentin sits up slightly, though his expression hasn't changed all that much. He still looks pretty stoic, if not a but more smug. "How about I call you and you take a rain check later on when you're free?"

"Sounds great!" Antonio chirps once more, and he isn't at all convinced by the cheerfulness in his own voice. "I'll just give you my number."

The two exchange phones and he saves his number onto Quentin's phone. With a chaste kiss on the cheek, he exits the care and bids Quentin goodbye as he drives off. Antonio doesn't really want to go out with him, no, but Quentin seems like a nice guy! And he wasn't that bad-looking. Maybe… Maybe it'd help him get his mind off of some things— or people— Lovi, especially.

Maybe Franny and Gil were right. Maybe he did have to move on. At least it was a start.

But still, he wasn't entirely convinced.

* * *

Lovino was going to have a field day, he could tell. After some (read: a lot) coaxing from him, Allistor, Colin and Liam, Arthur had finally, _finally _obliged to letting Lovino pay to have his eyebrows done at Bene_f_it. After all, it couldn't get any _worse_ now, could it?

They left the house soon after brunch, the Italian decked out in whatever clothes he'd left in Allistor's room, from many 'sleepovers' before, no doubt. So here they were, at the mall Lovino claimed he hated oh-so much. Allistor had driven them there before going straight ahead to EHU for play rehearsals.

When Arthur finally settled himself into a chair, the moment he found out that his brows were going to be gently ripped off of his face by the root via hot wax, he grew pale and his breathing became a little bit more shallow. And holy fucking _shit_, Arthur kept a vice-like grip on Lovino's hand like he was going through labour or something!

Maybe it was because waxing hurt— but surely, it couldn't hurt _that _much. Lovino's accompanied Bella here to get her eyebrows done every month, and each time, she was _totally _relaxed.

Or maybe she just looked like it. Not that he would know. Because truth be told, he personally never had to have his eyebrows done before. He was 'blessed with perfect eyebrows'— or at least, that's what Feliks tells him from time to time. Usually when the Pole was preoccupied with post-lunch touch-ups to make sure his makeup was still on point.

Still, that didn't keep him from cringing occasionally whenever Arthur's grip tightened, especially when the tweezers came out.

Around twenty minutes of excruciating pain later, Arthur looked like a new man, to say the least. No longer were his _abominable _eyebrows the thick rectangular patches of hair they used to be— they actually had a _legitimate shape now_! Lovino couldn't believe it. Arthur flat-out went from a 1.5 to a full ten.

And maybe he got it from Bella or Feli, or, hell, maybe even _Liz_, but Lovino didn't want to stop just _there_. No, he wanted to get Arthur a new outfit to match as well, the proverbial cherry on top of today's pièce de résistance.

He dragged the blond to _H&amp;M_ and began cherry-picking out a series of clothes that suited Arthur's taste, but wouldn't make him look like the walking fashion faux pas he usually was.

This entire time, the Briton couldn't help but stare at the Italian like he'd grown two heads. Basically, Lovino in his inebriated state, had nearly shaved off all of his eyebrows. Then, sober, offered to pay to have them professionally done. And now, here he was, shopping for an outfit for the Briton. It had nonplussed the latter to say the least.

He and Lovino shared mutual circles, but never really interacted with each other. In fact, the only times they ever had a proper conversation was whenever Lovino stayed over. They barely knew each other, and yet here Lovino was, going around and picking an outfit for him even though Arthur's insisted that it wasn't necessary at all.

It was also very odd since Arthur _knew _that Antonio and Lovino were friends, and he also knew that Antonio was very much… _interested _in Lovino, albeit the fact that he was already in a relationship with Allistor, who was Arthur's brother. And Lovino's being with Allistor wasn't as simple as it looked, either. He and his other brothers had kept mum about it, but sooner or later, it'd have to come up— preferably sooner.

Lovino was a pretty decent bloke after all.

* * *

When Lovino finally had his fill of shopping, he and Arthur went to the foodcourt to wait for Allistor to come fetch them. The Italian languidly picked at his cinnamon bun as Arthur leaned back and watched him.

"I hope you don't mind me asking, but," Arthur speaks up suddenly, prompting Lovino to look up at him with an eyebrow slightly arched. "Why did you go through all this trouble for me?"

Without skipping a beat, Lovino shrugs his shoulders in nonchalance. "Why not? It was the least I could do."

"I wouldn't say that buying me an entire outfit would be, quote, unquote, 'the least' you could do."

"With your eyebrows _now_? Trust me, it was the _least _I could do. No 'quote, unquote'. They deserve better now."

Arthur rolls his eyes and Lovino snickers. "Oh, fuck you."

Lovino takes another bite out of his cinnamon bun, and once again, Arthur's prepared himself to ask the Italian another question. "You… Really love my brother, don't you?"

The latter glances up at him with his brows furrowed, and his cheeks are instantly glowing red. "The fuck kinda question is that, dammit? I—" he briefly clears his throat and answers in a tone more hushed, "…O-Of course I do."

"And you're sureyou and Allistor will always be together, right?"

Lovino stops and ponders on it for several moments. Then he turns to look at Arthur, brows knit together. "…Where are you going with this?"

Arthur takes a deep breath. "Look, there's something you need to know about—"

"There yeh are! Ah've been looking all over for yeh!"

The Briton's heart palpitates the moment he hears Allistor's voice. He's almost afraid his brother's heard him, but judging from the way he's smiling at Lovino, it doesn't seem likely. Lovino's directed his attention to Allistor wholly, lips curving up into a smile Arthur had a hunch Antonio would die for.

Resigned, Arthur slowly shakes his head and plays happy families with his brother and his brother's boyfriend. As the three made their way to the parking lot, Arthur had pulled Allistor back several steps away from Lovino, out of hearing range. "You have to tell him." Arthur says. "He deserves to know."

Allistor gives his younger brother a sideways glance, expressionless, then gives a noncommittal shrug. Arthur stops and lets him go, watching as Allistor draped his arm around Lovino's shoulders and leant in to quickly kiss his cheek.

* * *

Monday morning had come all too soon, and Antonio wasn't ready for it at all. Normally, the very _notion _of Lovino would leave him breathless, stomach aflutter— and in a _good way_!— but right now, he felt nothing but a leaden weight in the pit of his stomach called anxiousness.

He didn't know what to do! If Allistor told him to stay away from Lovi, then chances are, Allistor's told Lovino to stay clear of him as well, right? Right?

So where did that leave them now?

_D__í__os_, just thinking about it…

As soon as he entered the classroom for his morning algebra class, the very moment he saw Lovino sitting there, he could feel his heart break a little. Slowly, he made his way across the room, feet dragging along the linoleum flooring, and sat down beside him. He was at a complete loss as to what to do or say.

And then there was Quentin.

Antonio let out a shaky breath, guilt increasing tenfold. He couldn't even look Lovi in the eye anymore.

How did everything turn out like this? How did everything get so complicated in such a short amount of time?

Lovi didn't even take notice of him. Of course. Why would he, right? He didn't _care _about him, after all. And even if he did, it wasn't as if Antonio could even _act upon it _or do anything about it because of Allistor. In fact, he had no doubt that Allistor already told Lovino not to talk to him.

And then there was Quentin. _Mierda._

Feeling his eyes water and his nose burn, he is quick to duck his head into the crook of his crossed arms lest Lovi, by happenstance, turn to look at him. Antonio tried his best not to let his emotions get the better of him (again). He had to keep calm, he absolutely _had _to.

_Take deep and steady breaths, Antonio__… _He told himself. _Just breathe._

He put on a straight face. He willed his tears to stop after wiping a few stray drops away. He faked a smile, and he let go.

He let his emotions go.

* * *

Two weeks.

It's been exactly two weeks since Antonio's talked to Lovino last, flat-out ignoring him. He's never felt so _low_. So _terrible_. Truly, he was the shittiest human being on the planet. Even though Francis and Gilbert have been telling him over and over again that it was the _right _thing to do (for whom?), he didn't share their sentiments at all.

Lovi hadn't even done anything wrong! It was all Antonio's fault. And it came of no surprise when Lovino had soon gotten the hint that Antonio didn't want to talk to him (even though he desperately did) and returned the callousness and impersonality tenfold.

Antonio thought that he deserved it.

Whenever they had the same classes together, Lovino absolutely _refused _to acknowledge Antonio's existence, let alone his presence. He would never refer to Antonio by name anymore. He wouldn't even talk to Antonio directly, even if what he had to say was directed to him.

And although Antonio was in a relationship with Quentin now (a very complicated one at that), he's never felt so _alone_. He felt worthless in all aspects imaginable, and it'd crossed his mind more than once to grab Lovino by the shoulders and kiss him with all he could muster, in effort to somehow convey what he felt. But he knew that Lovino would completely and utterly hate him for it, if he already didn't. Other times, he wished he could sleep forever and never wake up. But he had people to live for.

Everything that's been going on between he and Lovino, he felt, had only been a retrogression leading up to a culminating point he feared would come soon. He was right.

And that culminating point was today, apparently.

* * *

Monday. Noon. The bell had rung. Many of the students were quick to depart, algebra professor included.

Lovino had stood up and slung his backpack over his shoulder, yet he remained rooted to his spot. Only he and Antonio were the only ones left in the room now, the tension so terribly thick, Antonio could swear one could cut it with a knife.

The Spaniard gulped, his hands starting to quiver as he quickly stuffed his notebook into his bag. Just as he zipped it close, Lovino wasted no time in speaking up.

"Why won't you talk to me anymore?"

Antonio could feel the back of his eyes stinging again, and this time, he wasn't sure if he could keep a calm composure, just as he had been doing so for the past two weeks. Not when _this _was happening. Not when he knew that the moment he opened his mouth and tried to speak, there'd be nothing but incoherent sobs and baseless apologies pouring from his lips.

So taking a deep breath, he tersely shook his head before making a beeline for the door, only for Lovino to pull him back.

"I asked you a fucking question!" He snarls, hitting Antonio's arm with a clenched fist, and it kills Antonio inside to see the hurt and confusion and anger in Lovino's eyes. The Italian grabs a fistful of Antonio's shirt and pulls him in close, so close, he can feel Lovino's breath mingling with his. He can see every stroke of colour in Lovino's eyes and it's overwhelming him. "Why've you been ignoring me, huh? Is it because of your dipshit friends? Or is it because I'm suddenly not good enough for you to hang out with, you fucker?"

"No, Lovi, of course not—" Antonio says, voice cracking at the end, but Lovino doesn't seem to be listening. No, instead, he shoves Antonio back.

"Don't fucking call me 'Lovi'. Y'know, I don't know why I ever wasted my fucking precious time on you. I didn't even _do shit to you_, and this is how you treat me? Wow. You prick! You're a goddamn prick." Lovino lets out a humourless, sardonic laugh, and he starts pacing. "My friends were right about you. They say you don't care 'bout nobody but your damn self."

Then he stops. He stops and smiles bitterly, making a small gesture with his open palms. "But hey. At least I _finally _understand why you're such close friends with Gilbert and Francis. Cheers to this, Judas."

With that, Lovino flip him the bird and walks off. He shoves his shoulder into Antonio's roughly and slows down deliberately, as if anticipating some sort of physical retaliation; welcoming it. Upon seeing none, he scoffs and walks away.

Everything just happened so fast, before Antonio could even get a word out, Lovino was already out of the door, slamming it behind him. All grew silent, Lovino's footfalls growing more and more faint.

When realisation hit him, it hit him hard. Lovino wanted _nothing _to do with him now. They weren't even friends anymore.

Before he could register it, tears are running down his cheeks in rivulets. He sinks into the nearest chair and buries his face into his arms, chest heaving as he sobbed.

It seemed like it was all he could do nowadays.

* * *

Later on in the day, Antonio sees Lovino sitting with his friends in the cafeteria during lunch. Of course, Lovino doesn't pay him any heed— but judging from the way Bella and Liz are whispering into his ear and glaring daggers at the Spaniard, it had tipped the latter off that Lovino already knew he was there too.

Antonio looks away and has lunch with Quentin. He is distracted while the other elaborates to him different painting styles he admires, an aesthete at heart. It takes everything in him not to turn and look at Lovino, but it hurts him even more to know that if he were to look at Lovino, he would certainly not be looking back at him.

Then, a little bit later, Antonio puts two and two together and realises that, chances are, Lovino didn't come to the conclusion that Antonio had gotten fed up with him (which couldn't be _any _farther from the truth) on his own. Chances are, there were… _other _influences.

Liz and Bella are good friends to Lovino, but they aren't very good people, it seems. God knows what they've told Lovino about him; things that may or may not be entirely true. Albeit the fact that Antonio's talked to them literally only _once _before, both on separate occasions, somehow they hated him! Lovino's friends hated _him_! And _his _own friends disliked Lovino very, very much!

Just thinking about it made his head and heart ache. It was as if no matter what, the universe was built to keep them apart, on opposite ends of the spectrum; and not just as lovers, but even as friends. Deep down, though, there was this voice in his head telling him he and Lovino could never be 'just friends'.

* * *

Antonio heaved a sigh and flopped down on his bed, weary green eyes boring into the black suitcase before him. Shrugging off the traces of exhaustion creeping into the edges of his mind, he went through his essentials in his brown messenger bag for the nth time. Passport? Check. Tickets? Check. Student ID? Check. Money? Check. Phone? Check. Power bank and earphones. Check.

It was late; unbearably so. In fact, he even had a class that ended a few hours earlier. Albeit the fact that Thanksgiving break officially started tomorrow, he was taking a red-eye flight to California. He already booked an Über taxi to take him there. It was on its way here now.

He was anxious to see his family, see how they were doing— how mamá was doing, especially. Even though it had only been several months since he's seen her last, he was still… _eager _to see her and see if she was doing well.

"You all ready?" Gilbert asks, leaning against the doorway to the living room. He himself and Ludwig were leaving for their grandparents' holiday home in Ocala tomorrow while Franny was going to stay with his aunt's family in Seattle.

Antonio briefly wondered what Lovino and Feliciano would be doing over Thanksgiving. He tried texting Feli at one point in effort to somehow see if Lovino was doing fine, but Feli merely replied with a curt 'He's fine :)' and he hasn't replied to any of Antonio's other texts since.

"Yep!" Antonio says, smoothing down the fabric of his pants. "It'll be nice to be back home again."

He isn't aware of it, but he sounds like he's a thousand miles away already.

Gilbert cricks his neck and rolls his shoulders. "I guess we could all use a break, _ja_? _Gott_, sometimes I code shitty flash games in my sleep."

The Spaniard snorts at this, shaking his head slightly. Gilbert motions a hand towards Antonio's luggage. "Need any help with that though?"

"Nope. I'm all good." With that, he stands up and smiles. "Guess I'll be seeing you in a few days then?"

"You got it."

Antonio nods, grabbing the handle to his suitcase and wheeling it out the front door. "Hope you have a good Thanksgiving, _mi amigo_. Tell Franny I said goodbye!"

As soon as he was out of the apartment, door closing behind him, the smile he's been faking instantly fell from his face.

* * *

"_Fratello_! Ve~ Are you up yet? It's time to get ready! We have lots to do today!"

Lovino groaned, trying to cover his ears with his pillow as he silently willed Feliciano to fuck off and let him get his goddamn rest. The moment Feli put a hand on his shoulder to shake him awake, he automatically swat the offending appendage away and glared at him.

Feli pouted, rubbing the sting away from his hand. "Aww, Lovi, why'd you do that? You're so mean!"

The older Vargas pulled the duvet over his head. "Go away! Let me sleep, dammit."

"But we have a long day ahead of us! Aren't you excited? _Nonno_'s flying in tonight!"

Lovino stilled. Then spoke up, "So?"

"So, that means we have to go grocery shopping, clean up the house, cook…" Feliciano counted off on his fingers, trailing off as he exited the bedroom. Just as Lovino sighed with relief and closed his eyes again, Feliciano popped back in. "You still have to get up, though! Up and at 'em, _fratello_."

Thankfully, Feli ducked out of the room just in time to miss a fluffy white pillow aimed at his head. A light laugh left his lips, pausing as his phone vibrated again.

He checked his phone and frowned slightly, making his way to the kitchen.

**Toni: Hope you and Lovi have a great Thanksgiving, Feli! :)**

The younger Italian sighed, shaking his head. Oh, Toni… What happened between him and Lovi? One second, they were finally on good terms with each other; the next, Lovino came home in a fit of anger and swore he would never talk to him again.

The past few weeks had been weird, yes. Toni suddenly stopped talking to Lovi all of a sudden, and when Feli tried asking him or Gilbert and Francis about it, they wouldn't give him a straight answer. Then Antonio winds up dating this junior all of a sudden?

That one stumped Feliciano the most. He was _so sure _Antonio and Lovi were good for each other, and that Antonio really genuinely cared for his brother. But it seemed that he was wrong, and to say that it upset him would be an understatement.

Antonio texted him one night during dinner, asking him if Lovino was doing okay. Lovino glanced over and saw the text, and told Feliciano to block his number. It led to a tiresome argument, but in the end, Feli managed to keep Toni's number unblocked just as long as he promised never to reply to any of his texts again.

He tried talking to Lovino about it, but the elder refused to talk about it. He deemed the topic of discussion 'not good enough' or 'worthy enough', but Feliciano knew that it wasn't the case.

No matter how many times Lovi tried to play it off like he didn't care, Feli _could _tell that he _did _care. And Antonio cared too, didn't he?

Nonetheless, he had grown wary of Antonio as well and opted not to talk to him altogether. Despite the occasional text from Antonio inquiring him about how Lovi was doing, what he'd done to Lovi just didn't sit right with him.

He still remembers what happened with Lovi's ex-best friend, Julio, and he's grown thankful that Bella is such a good friend to him. He's grown more fond of Allistor as well, despite his initial skepticism upon first meeting the Scotsman. He's good to Lovi. They've never had an argument once, and Allistor is dedicated to being with his brother. He knows that being with Allistor's made Lovi so much more _happy_!

But still, he thought that Antonio would be… different!

Turns out, he was wrong after all.

* * *

"Hey. Hey, kid. We're here."

Antonio jerks awake, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The world spins, but he ignores it and glances over the front passenger seat at the taxi meter. He pulls out a couple of bills and wordlessly passes it to the driver before exiting the taxi and squinting at the violent influx of rich, Californian sunlight.

The driver exits the cab as well, opening the trunk and helping Antonio with his things. The yellow cab then drives off into the distance, and Antonio's left standing on the sidewalk leading up to his house.

Finally, he's home. Before he can even make sense of it all, Tía Angela is already out the door, her vibrant yellow muu-muu a sight for sore eyes. Her smile is wide as she hurries out to him, arms outstretched. He smiles tiredly and walks forward into her embrace. "_Ay, mi hijito!_" She exclaims, pushing him away to examine him at arm's length. "Look at you! You look so thin and tired!"

She cups his cheeks and examines him under her critical eye before tutting in disappointment. "You haven't been eating much lately, _hijo_?" Then she shakes her head and grabs one of his duffel bags.

"Tía, I can do that myself," Antonio argues weakly, trying to snatch the bag out of her grasp, but she pulls it closer to her chest and tuts at him once more.

"You look like a gust of wind could blow you over! No! Have your brother help you— _Alva! Come out here and help bring your brother__'__s things in!_"

Antonio's eyes widen in surprise. "He's already here?"

"Yes, yes," she says, distracted with trying to shoo him inside. "He just got here from his fancy-schmancy job last night— a miracle!"

Antonio laughs weakly, unexpectedly running into his older brother, Alvarez. "Hi, _hermano_," he says, the elder brushing past him with a curt 'Anton' leaving his lips. Antonio sighs at this before turning to Tía Angela. "Where's mamá?"

She nods towards the living room, and before she can even verbally answer, Antonio is already making his way to the aforementioned room. His heart skips a beat as he sees his mother sitting in front of the television, watching a random Spanish telenovela.

"Mamá," he says breathlessly, making his way over to her. _D__í__os m__í__o_, she looks as beautiful as ever. Her vibrant green eyes are trained on the screen, red lips slightly parted. Her skin is still sun-kissed as the last time he saw her, and even though her dark brown hair has started greying now, that doesn't matter. He kneels right beside her, and she looks at him. "Mamá, it's me. I'm home."

Unthinking, he wraps his arms around her, taking it all in. She doesn't hug back.

Tía is leaning against the doorway, her usually joyful features furrowed into one of concern. Mamá Ana Isabella Fernández-Carriedo looks up at Angela in a mix of confusion and fear. Then she speaks up. "Who is this man, and what is he doing in my house?"

* * *

Who knew so much dust could accumulate in such a short time? Well, _technically_, several months wasn't really a 'short time' per se, but since dust mostly consisted of dead skin cells, one would think that there wouldn't be so _much _of it in a house nobody's been in for a while.

Lovino's been busting his ass cleaning all day (not really) whilst Feliciano had the luxury of going out to get groceries and toiletries for their stay. Then again, he'd probably get caught in fucking traffic on the way to and back, so there was no way Lovino would have the patience for that.

Earlier that morning, the twins drove back to their old house, one that's still technically theirs, and the same one they lived in while they were in high school.

It was much bigger than their penthouse near EHU, with a garage, basement and an attic. Of course, _Nonno _had his own bedroom here, so it was only reasonable for them to stay there for Thanksgiving.

Once Lovino finally changed his bedsheets, he flopped right on top of the mattress and stared up at the ceiling, dotted with various glow-in-the-dark stars. The four light blue walls that surrounded him were plastered with numerous posters, all of bands he listened to. Some were signed and framed; others were meticulously (but not perfectly) cut out of whatever issue of Alternative Press he had then, or others he bought online.

It was weird to not have his phone going off incessantly with texts messages for once. A sigh left his lips as he lay on his side and stared at the blue Crosley vinyl player leaning against the wall facing him. It was placed atop a small tempered glass table with a small shelf beneath it for his records.

Silence deafening, ringing in his ears, he sat up and leaned over the player, frowning in distaste upon discovering a layer of dust had gathered on top of it. In haste, he dusted it off with a dirty pillowcase before going through his records.

Nostalgia hit him hard, rediscovering all these songs that used to mean so much to him again. After a moment's thought, he decided to put on Citizen's _Youth _album on.

He closed his eyes and let the music engulf the room as he fell right back on top of his bed and heaved a tired sigh. Lovino ran a hand through his hair as he found himself automatically singing along to the words of the very first song.

"And when your friends say I'm a waste of time, then you can find out on your own. And if it's coming down to pick a side, then you can decide where to go. And it's hard to watch you roam the room, to watch you from the wall. And it's all I've got to think about, it's hard."

He stops and gulps, staring up at the ceiling.

As much as he hated himself for it, he couldn't help but think of that fucking asshole Antonio for the nth time that day. Or for the past several days for that matter.

_Dio_, he just— he just couldn't stop thinking about what happened! He tried not to, and he tried to distract himself the best he could, but it was really just hard, okay? He couldn't stop examining every stupid, minuscule detail the weekend of the Halloween party, and nothing clicked.

Just as he started to think that the bastard was actually an okay person, he goes and proves him wrong by ignoring him like he didn't exist for two fucking weeks. Who _does that_?! Who the fuck does that?! Who tries _so hard _to befriend someone, only to treat them like shit right after?

Antonio, that's fucking who.

Bella and Liz were right. The bastard doesn't care about _anyone _but himself. They were probably right about Antonio using him, too. About how he and his shitty friends were making fun of him behind his back.

His friends _did _hate him after all, so it was bound to happen.

He just couldn't _believe _himself, he couldn't believe that he actually gave that asshole a chance in the first place! First off, he tries to hit on Feliciano. They've fucking duked it out before. The bastard's shitty friends hate him! And all of a sudden, for _no _particular reason, the bastard starts bringing him lunch, trying to befriend him and all!

All the warning signs were right there.

He should've known better, he should have.

Though he didn't know what hurt more; his pride or his f-_feelings_. God, that bastard actually got to him. That in itself was an achievement right fucking there. Antonio must be so proud of himself.

Lovino presses the heels of his palms to his eyes, trying to ignore the tears welling up and threatening to surface. He just felt so _used_, so— so _worthless_.

He automatically reached out for his phone charging on his end table and pulled the charger out, unlocking the phone and dialling a number he knew all too well.

"_Hello?__"_

"Hey. Are you free right now?"

"'_Course Ah am, Lov__— __what__'__s wrong? Yeh sound upset.__"_

The corner of Lovino's lip quirks up. "I guess I kind of am. I dunno."

"_Is it about _him _again?__"_

"Yeah."

Silence falls between them, save for the music playing on Lovino's end and the sound of indistinct chatter on Allistor's.

Then Allistor speaks up. _"__D__'__yeh want ta talk about it?__"_

"No," Lovino mumbles, twisting to lie on his stomach. "I guess I just wanted to hear your voice? Fucking cliché, isn't it?"

Allistor chuckles. _"__Anything coming from yeh can never be a clich__é__, let me tell yeh tha__'__.__"_

Lovino smiles softly. "Sure it isn't. Anyways, how's the family? How are Arthur's eyebrows?"

"_Ah, yes__— __Arthur__'__s eyebrows are doing absolutely splendid today; they may __'__ave been through some damn tough times before, but they__'__re seeing better days now! And they__'__ve got yeh ta thank for, Lov.__" _Allistor pauses, humming in thought. _"__As for th__' __family, they__'__re all doing great, methinks! Ah think this is th__' __first time we__'__ve __'__ad a proper meal at __'__ome in months. Liam__'__s dead chuffed mum__'__s prepared roast. Arthur won__'__t stop looking at his eyebrows__— __he__'__s a changed man__— __while Colin__'__s talkin__' __football with da.__"_

"Sounds like fun," Lovino says, "Feli's still out doing the groceries and _Nonno _won't arrive until later at night."

"_So yeh__'__re all alone right now?__"_

Lovino flops onto his back, staring up at the ceiling again. "Yeah. Pretty much."

Suddenly, things on Allistor end grows quiet, voices hushed to damn near nothing. He hears the sound of a door closing shut, and he can practically hear the grin in Allistor's voice. _"__Are yeh thinking wha__'__ Ah__'__m thinking?__"_

Lovino's face grows fifty shades of crimson. He's pretty sure what he's thinking is along the lines of what Allistor is thinking, but _just _to make sure (and avoid embarrassing himself), he asks the redhead this: "Depends. What _are _you thinking of?"

The Scotsman chuckles lowly, and Lovino instantly confirms that they're pretty much both thinking of the same thing. He can't help but grin despite the redness of his cheeks. "You're such a fucking perv."

"_Just close your eyes and imagine me in the room with yeh, Lov__…"_

* * *

Coming from a Hispanic family, Tía prepared an array of Mexican food for dinner, only this time, with more turkey and less of carnitas. Antonio pitched in to help as well, cooking several Spanish dishes to add to the table. He may have been a mess inside, but that didn't stop him from cooking one of his best dishes: beef salpicao.

And although Alvarez was home, it seemed like he wasn't even _with _them at all! He spent most of the day ducking in and out of rooms to take phone calls, ignoring Tía when she berated him for using his phone too much. And sure, Antonio _totally_ got that Alvarez was busy— but it was Thanksgiving! He wasn't supposed to be working in the first place.

He was supposed to be taking a break, spending time with _family_. Something that Antonio himself didn't have the privilege of doing very often, unless he was on a break. On top of that, he's noticed that Alvarez couldn't even spend _ten minutes _in the same room with mamá.

It grated at his nerves, and it crossed his mind more than once to speak up about it, but he chose to hold his tongue. It was Thanksgiving, after all.

When dinner and the plates were all set, Tía went to the living room to bring mamá in the dining room for dinner. Antonio sat down and sighed, staring at the food before him.

Y'know, technically, Tía Angela wasn't a biological aunt of theirs, no; she's a close family friend, having known the Fernández-Carriedo family ever since mamá and papá moved to America. Tía had her own family as well, three boys all grown up and raising their own families.

Tía worked as a caretaker, so when mamá got sick, she stepped up to the plate and chose to take care of her 24/7. Even if it meant she wouldn't have as many opportunities to see her sons.

It was the labour of love.

* * *

The moment Antonio saw Tía ushering mamá in through the door, he automatically stood up and pulled mamá's chair out for her. Her steps were slow, green eyes unfocussed, but she sat down. Then they all joined hands in prayer.

Tía had already prepared a plate for her, and Antonio couldn't help but watch as his mother picked at her turkey.

Her hands were becoming more and more uncoordinated, he noticed— a stark contrast to the way she used to deftly prepare his favourite foods as a kid. He swallows the lump that had formed in his throat, hoping the tears stinging his eyes wouldn't fall. In the end, he had to turn away and dab at his eyes with a napkin.

Alvarez was already seated as well, tired green eyes not unlike his own, glancing up at mamá for a good several seconds before he cast his gaze back down to his plate and began eating.

Antonio was slow to get food for himself, so Tía took it upon herself to prepare him a plate full enough to feed a small army. He smiles at her briefly before looking at his mother again, how her slender fingers clumsily poked at the meat.

He cleared his throat and scooted closer to her. "Would you like me to help you?"

Mamá looks up at him and not a flicker of recognition passes through their depths. She nods, and he nods too, scooting even closer so he could take the fork from her hands and to grab the knife beside it as well. He sliced a piece of turkey off and fed it to her.

After a moment, her brows start to furrow. "You look familiar," she says, and Antonio's heart skips a beat. He smiles up at her.

"I do?"

She nods slowly, lips still parted. "Yes. You remind me of my husband, Enrique. Are you his brother?"

Antonio vaguely notices the sound of Alvarez's chair scraping against the wooden floor as the elder stands up and exits the room. He smiles softly, placing his hand atop of hers. "No, mamá. It's— It's me, Antonio! Your son."

He looks at her and hopes.

And that's when he finally catches his first glimpse of her in a long time— the _real _her— the one before she was diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer's. Her jaw drops. She cups his cheeks, green eyes filled with life and brimming with tears. She runs her hands all over his face, as if trying to memorise every detail.

"My son! My son!" She cries out, and Antonio finds himself crying as well. He wastes no time in hugging her close, embracing her, not knowing how long she'll stay like this before she starts to forget again.

"Mamá, I missed you so much," he whispers. "_Te quiero mucho_, mamá, _te quiero_,"

"You've grown so much, Antonio, _mi hijo_. You're still as sweet as ever!" She runs her fingers through his hair, and it takes his all not to outright sob into her blouse.

"I miss you, mamá."

"It's okay, _mi querido_. I'm here. Everything will be alright, hm?"

"Please don't go," he sobs.

"I'm not going anywhere, Anton— _te quiero_."

They stay that way, refusing to let go of each other. It was in these rare times of self-awareness mamá would cling onto the most, until her _disease _would reel her— the _real _her— back to obscurity and confusion and darkness once more.

And they talk; they catch up. It's as if he was back in high school again, long before symptoms ever started showing up, before she got her prognosis. Only now, he's talking about the classes he's taking, how he's doing in Spokane, and all the new people he's met. Before he can stop himself, he offhandedly mentions Lovino, this person he's met.

There's a certain wistfulness in his tone, trying to push back the memories of the last time he and Lovino talked to each other back into the recesses of his mind. Then he smiles at his mother, and she smiles back, cupping his cheek. Her eyes are soft with understanding. Like she knew something he hadn't even realised himself.

He wraps his arms around her, taking a shaky breath. "I missed you mamá. I wish it could be like this everyday. I get really homesick sometimes."

She chuckles and rubs circles onto his back. But suddenly, she grows still; rigid. Antonio, too, stops; his heart skips a beat. Then looks up at her in confusion, but she's already shoved him back, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "Who are you?" She demands, eyes wild, and ready to defend herself if need be. "What are you doing here?! This is my house!"

"Mamá, it's me! Antonio! Please, it's me, your son!" Antonio cries out, but she refuses to listen, weakly beating at his chest with her fists.

Tía is quick to step in, soothing words and calming actions and all, but not without instructing Antonio to step out of the room until mamá has called down first.

Antonio runs out of the house and leans against the railing of the front porch, and he covers his face as he cries.

Unlike Alvarez, who is jaded with work and world-weary, who was old enough to experience the pain of losing his father due to a stroke and now his mother to Alzheimer's, Antonio has not grown used to being forgotten yet.

* * *

"Maybe I should take a year off of school and take care of mamá," Antonio says later that night, much later. Tía and mamá are already asleep, but Antonio and Alvarez are still up.

They're sitting in the living room with the windows open so Alvarez can smoke inside. The tequila is out, an inch or two poured into two short glasses.

The younger of the two gazes blankly at the liquid, swirling the amber substance around in its container. Alvarez shakes his head, tapping the end of his cigarette against the rim of the olive green ceramic ash tray on top of the wooden coffee table.

"That's not happening, Anton. And you know full well that mamá would never approve of that."

Antonio downs his drink and scoffs. "Easy for you to say. You rarely visit her."

"Neither do you—"

"But that's because I go to school in a different state!"

Alvarez straightens up and turns to face Antonio, expression grim. "Do you really think I _like _seeing her like this? Especially when there is literally _nothing _I can do to make it better?"

"I don't like seeing her like this either, you know that. But the least we can do is just _be there _for her." Antonio massages his temples and sighs. He considers mentioning transferring schools, but that's even worse than taking a year off, because he won't see Gilbert or Francis anymore, and he would never see Lovino again.

He pours himself another shot.

"Given the present circumstances, Anton, the least you can do is _focus_ and _finish _your studies. Mamá always wanted to be a teacher. You can fulfil that for her." Alvarez held his glass towards Antonio, who filled it in less than half-full.

They stay silent like that for a long time. After much thought, Antonio speaks up, "…It's gotten worse."

He blinks slowly, tiredly. His eyes are still swollen from crying. To think that he always used to smile.

"Yes," Alvarez concurs, sighing and leaning against the sofa.

"She forgot she just had dinner," Antonio mumbles. After Tía calmed mamá down, it was like nothing had ever happened. The hysterical look in her eye had gone, like it never existed, and she ate dinner a second time.

"Alzheimer's is one fucked up disease, isn't it? They take away the people you love without them even being gone. And no matter how much money you've got, you still won't be able to do a damn thing since there _is _no cure for it. _Dum spiro spero_, they say. 'As long as you breathe, there is hope'. But not if you have fucking Alzheimer's, apparently." Alvarez presses the heel of his hand into the middle of his forehead, a bitter chuckle leaving his lips but it turns into a choked sob.

Antonio's face scrunches up. "I don't want to lose her."

"Me neither."

"I'm not prepared to lose her."

"Jesus Christ, Anton. Nobody is."

Tears are running down Alvarez's cheeks, but he makes no move to wipe them away. Soon enough, Antonio's started crying again too. He buries his face in his hands, trying to muffle his sobs so he wouldn't wake Tía or mamá up.

Of all people, of the seven billion people on this planet, why did it have to be her?

* * *

Is it late at night? Is it early in the morning?

Antonio can't tell.

He's restless; his thoughts won't shut up, shut up, shut up. He can't sleep and it hurts to breathe. His mind is clouded, yet at the same time, not.

He can't stop thinking about mamá, and Tía, and Alva, and Lovino. He's going through their old conversations via Facebook and iMessage. He can't send any texts to Lovino anymore since the Italian blocked his number. Calling is out of the question as well. Lovino had forgotten to unfriend him on Facebook, but Antonio didn't want to jeopardise that by messaging him.

It's the only way he can keep tabs on Lovino anymore, and since Lovino rarely posted anything, most Antonio saw were posts Lovino's been tagged with.

Everything that's been going on just makes him feel worse.

When he finally succumbs to sleep, he dreams lucidly, of a world without Alzheimer's, where his brother is finally happy, and he is too, and where Lovino is finally, finally his.

* * *

**Translations:  
**_Verdammt _\- dammit (Dt.)  
_mon ami _\- my friend (Fr.)  
_Dio _\- God (It.)  
_D__í__os _\- God (Esp.)  
_mierda - _shit (Esp.)  
_mam__á _\- mother (Esp.)  
_ja _\- yes (Dt.)  
_Gott _\- God (Dt.)  
_mi amigo _\- my friend (Esp.)  
_fratello _\- brother (It.)  
_nonno_ \- grandfather (It.)  
_t__í__a _\- aunt (Esp.)  
_mi hijito/hijo/querido _\- my dear [terms of endearment] (Esp.)  
_hijo _\- dear (Esp.)  
_hermano _\- brother (Esp.)  
_D__í__os m__í__o _\- Oh my God (Esp.)  
_pap__á _\- father (Esp.)  
_te quiero_ \- I love you (Esp.)

**Man… Writing this chapter was tough for me. I actually got really emotional writing the latter part of this chapter, which doesn't happen very often. Antonio sure has a lot on his plate. I personally don't know anyone who's been diagnosed with Alzheimer's, but I hope I managed to capture it accurately. I can't fathom how devastated these people must feel, friends and family included.**

**There is a blog post by Lovino on his Tumblr that is related to the content of this chapter. His URL is 'pxss-off'. I'm guessing I'll have to add a separate page for content solely by him, because I intend on using his blog more.**

**~jellydonut16~**

**P.S. My chapter lengths have been really long as of late. Would you guys still like me to keep up at this length (more or less), or would you rather something shorter so it isn't as much of a hassle or a chore to read? Not sure if it'll help me update any faster though. Also, please tell me what you think of how the story is going so far. My writing style has changed over the course of the story and constructive criticism is welcome.**


	23. twenty-three

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.  
****This chapter contains explicit content and violence.**

**Kicking The Bucket List  
****_twenty-three_**

**"****_The reason why we can't ever let go of someone is  
_****_because deep inside we still have hope.  
_****_I mean why else would we feel the way we do?_****"  
****—M.S.**

Ah, snow. There was just so much of it, and Antonio was already sick of the dull blanket of greyish white that covered the streets. And the cold nipped at his gloved fingers, yet no amount of blowing on them or rubbing his palms together or shoving his hands into his pockets could give him the warmth he craved for.

It served as a good distraction, however, so he often found himself focussing on the cold instead of the dread that had found its home in the pit of his stomach, neighbouring misery.

To cut to the chase, by now, Lovino had long stopped glaring at him, stopped making snarky remarks about him right to his face. No, instead, Lovino would just ignore him, not a word from one to the other unless it was of utmost necessity.

It was the sort of civility that came with societal expectation or obligation, yet still, it contained a tension of sorts. It was a negative peace, really— merely the absence of conflict— which, if one were to dwell upon it, would realise that it wasn't truly peace at all. Because whenever Lovino spoke, there was this— this hidden _edge _to his voice, which chilled Antonio to the bone far more than any physical cold ever could.

Lovino usually spoke with passion, which was one of the things that drew Antonio in, really; but now, the tone of his voice was absolutely so _glacial_. So _cold_. It wasn't even one of anger, per se; but it was one of contempt; distaste; rancour. No matter what word one would use to describe it, bottom-line, things between them were fucked up beyond all repair, and Antonio knew it. His guilt always multiplied tenfold whenever Lovino was around, and honestly, he's been having trouble sleeping at night.

Even though it isn't hot at all, he breaks out into a cold sweat as he stares up at the ceiling in the early hours of the morning. Pangs of discomfort reverberate through his gut. His heart rate speeds up the more anxious he gets, feeling as if his heart would beat right out of his chest. His mistakes plague him, all those deadly little 'what ifs' running rampant through his head in the early hours of the morning.

It's distracting him, he can't focus, he can't think straight— It's affecting his studies, and even some of his professors have picked up on the subtle changes in him. He thinks about it _all the time_, yet at the same time, not. He tries to distract himself with other things. And normally, Antonio is good at that: distracting himself. But it's becoming increasingly and seemingly impossible.

Gilbert and Francis told him— they _told _him that things would get better in due time! But they weren't! They aren't! At all! In fact, things were getting worse with each passing day, and he knew that he had no one else to blame for it but himself.

His friends had never _coerced _him or forced him to stop talking to Lovino. No, he did that of his own volition. A part of him _wanted _to blame, arguing that they absolutely wouldn't have gotten off of his back unless he went and stopped communicating with the Italian _entirely_. Which was partially true. Probably.

But in the end, it doesn't even matter. It was all him.

So what if he was in love with a boy who was already with someone else? So what if his feelings would never get him anywhere? Who knows— maybe… Just _maybe_, some people don't love just so they can be loved back. Maybe _some _people love for the sake of loving. Because they do, and not because they expect to get anything out of it in return.

_Díos_, he never should have done it. Give Lovino the cold shoulder and all. He didn't deserve any of this, especially since he'd been a really good friend.

Fuck. _Fuck. _What has he _done_? How could he have been so stupid?

He screwed up, he screwed it all up. And now he didn't know what to do.

* * *

"How can you drink that stuff everyday?"

Allistor pauses, glances up at Lovino. Then he smiles charmingly, as he always did so, and goes on to pour _five fucking packets of sugar _and _four creamers _into his grande serving of brewed coffee. Lovino failed (well, actually, he didn't even really _try_) to suppress an involuntary shiver of disgust. He watches the sugar melt in a viscous blob before sinking to the bottom of the cup.

"Literally _how_?" He asks again, and the redhead laughs.

"Like Ah said, Lov, it's an acquired taste!" He starts stirring the concoction around a wooden stirrer for a moment before pausing. Then he looks up at him. "Why don't yeh give i' a try? Maybe yeh'll like it too!"

Lovino snorts. "Bullshit. I would _never_—"

"Ah dare yeh."

The Italian stops and stares at his boyfriend incredulously for a few seconds, hazel eyes wide, yet somehow at the same time, narrowed. "You… You _what_?"

"Ah double-dare yeh. Do it."

The both of them are smiling now, and Lovino's got his game face on. He shifts a bit in his seat and smirks. "And if I do, what's in it for _me_?"

Allistor hums in contemplation, thoughtfully stroking his chin. "Hmm. Right. Well, 'ow 'bout this: yeh finish tha' cup of coffee, an' Ah'll pay for _anyfink _yeh want when we go ta th' mall."

Lovino's eyes widen in disbelief. "What? No way. No _fucking _way—"

"Yes way! In fact, Ah'll take yeh ta th' mall after rehearsals this afternoon. What say you, luv?"

"Bullshit! No, seriously? So— So, wait, what happens if I _don't _finish it all?"

The Scotsman shrugs. "Nothing. Ah just get th' fan_tas_tic satisfaction of seeing yer sweet, sweet defeat."

Lovino rolls his eyes at this, reaching across the table to pull the paper cup of steaming coffee towards himself. "Oh, ye of little faith. It's just _coffee_. And I'm an _Italian _for crying out loud! I'll finish this in _no time_."

He peers down at its contents, inwardly gulping at how… well, _strong _it looked. No shit, it was brewed coffee. Yep. Brewed coffee. Black coffee. No-frills, manly, straight to the point coffee.

Right.

Here goes then.

* * *

Antonio's bedroom, lunchtime. Quentin is on his bed, naked and panting. Antonio is standing at the foot of the bed, dishevelled but fully clothed. He watches him. It was Quentin's thing, really. Being watched.

The Brazilian-Mexican lets out a breathless moan as he runs his fingertips down the smooth expanse of his chest, back arched away from the mattress in pure want. He tweaks and pinches his nipples, fidgeting and writhing under Antonio's gaze.

Antonio knew it was supposed to be arousing, watching your boyfriend touch himself. And he'd been okay with it for most part! But there were times like these where it was as if he were sober, where Quentin was intoxicated with lust. Where, honestly, he sometimes felt ridiculous or just plain _embarrassed _standing there and watching him. Where he didn't feel aroused or turned on at all, and he wasn't just in the mood, even _if _Quentin was very good-looking. Times like these were the worst since it took his all just to get into it.

"Like what you see?" Quentin asks him, voice low. His hand skirts around his length to softly caress his inner thigh. "You do, don't you? You like watching me touch myself."

Not bothering to wait for an answer, he bit his lip and motioned for Antonio to come closer, so he did. He sultrily peered up at the Spaniard through his shaggy black hair, eyes clouded over with desire. Antonio meets his gaze and pulls his shirt off in one go, revealing tan skin stretched over taut muscle. Quentin pulls Antonio on top of him and they share a sloppy kiss, the Brazilian-Mexican's hands wandering to Antonio's bottom.

They did this often.

They would often meet up over lunch or whenever the both of them were free, and then they'd have a quick tryst in bed or two. They had sex more often than they talked, and they've technically never really gone on a date save for Quentin ordering pizza from La Cucina Italiano that one night because they got hungry.

Francis and Gilbert liked his new boyfriend, at least! Well— Maybe just more than they'd ever like Lovino—

"Hey. Hey!" Antonio snaps out of his thoughts and his eyes regain focus, training themselves on Quentin. The latter sighs, cupping his cheek. His eyes are narrowed in confusion, searching Antonio's own as he tried to decipher the Spaniard's thoughts. Contrary to popular belief, Antonio wasn't as easy to read as he thought. "You spaced out again. God."

"Sorry," Antonio says automatically, and once he catches the end of Quentin's words, he pipes up once more. "I— Do I space out a lot?"

Quentin frowns, running his thumb over Antonio's swollen lips. "Not a lot. But sometimes."

"I'm sorry," Toni says again. But this time, he means it a little more.

The corner of Quentin's lip quirks downwards, but he opts to shrug it off in favour of unzipping Antonio's jeans. The Spaniard allows himself to be pushed onto his back, leaning up on his elbows in order to somehow sit up and watch him. Within moments, Antonio's jeans and boxers are pulled down to his ankles, then left haphazardly on the floor. Without another word, Quentin takes him into his mouth.

Antonio's eyes slide shut, lips parting.

Twisting the bedsheets beneath him in clenched fists, he threw his head back as Quentin's skilful tongue drew out a guttural moan straight from the back of his throat. His hips buck forward, and Quentin works to loosen his jaw to take more of him in. Antonio gasps out, beads of sweat adorning his brow and soaking the curve of his back. As his mind takes him to paradise, he slowly starts to zone out and lose touch with reality again.

Antonio's eyes are squeezed shut now. His mind is spinning, and all he can do is focus on the pleasure. In his mind's eye, hazel eyes speckled with green and pupils blown wide are staring up at him. Lovino's hair is clinging to his face, his neck, and the dim lights are illuminating his bare skin. The Italian's cheeks are flushed red, and his brows are furrowed slightly, like he's pissed off for some reason, yet he's still sucking the daylights out of Antonio's dick anyway.

Shit. Holy _shit_. Just seeing Lovino like this, even if it was only in his head, is turning him on like _crazy_. If he wasn't aroused then, he certainly was _now_. Fuck, it was just so _hot_, it was starting to bring him to the edge. He lets out another moan, another breathless 'fuck, yes', and before he can stop himself _or _his imagination, Lovino's name had already left his lips— and _loudly_, at that.

After a beat of silence, Quentin stops what he's doing and Antonio's eyes snap open in pure mortification. Quentin's eyes are narrowed as he gets off the bed, his lips inadvertently making a small audible _smack!_

The room is thick with an unnerving tension and silence as Antonio warily sits up, emerald eyes as wide as saucers. Quentin is pacing the room, and he's the first one to speak.

"Are you fucking _kidding me_?! Lovino? Lovino Vargas?!" He rakes his fingers through his hair, voice on the edge of yelling. "I'm— I'm on my _fucking knees sucking you off_, and you're fucking thinking about _him_? FY-fucking-I, I'm your fucking _boyfriend_!"

Antonio couldn't find it in himself to respond or to retaliate, merely raising his arms up to protect himself as Quentin began to hit, scratch, punch and slap him wherever and however he could, howling in a fit of tears and shouting curses at him. And even amidst this, the Spaniard was still unsure whether or not to apologise.

Well— of _course _he had to apologise. That was the right thing to do, after he'd done such a terrible thing. But in a way, he didn't want Quentin to forgive him, no.

He wanted Quentin to break up with him, 'cause it'd be better for the both of them.

He wanted to break up with Quentin. Needed to— absolutely needed to, even.

"You piece of shit! You've been thinking about him all this time, haven't you?!" A shove. "_Haven't you_?!" Another shove.

He grit his teeth as the scratch marks across his arms began to raise and redden. Some parts of it drew blood, and some parts had broken though his skin entirely. It stung. His head spun and the side of his face throbbed.

"What?" Quentin spat out, vitriol practically dripping off of his tone. "You aren't even going to say anything to defend yourself? What're you, a fucking _coward_."

Antonio, his heart still racing, slowly shook his head. "I know I'm wrong. I'm sorry."

Quentin smacks him right across the face, and Antonio's head turns to the side after the impact. He stills in shock, his cheek painfully throbbing. The former leans in close, voice low and menacing. "Well your 'sorry' doesn't mean jack shit to me. You know what's pathetic? Being a thirsty hoe for _somebody _else's boyfriend. Must be a hard pill to swallow for a fucking slut like you."

That was the last straw.

Antonio turned to face Quentin, emerald eyes dark and dangerously narrowed. "Get _out_."

"_What _did you just say to me?"

"You heard what I said. Get out. We're _done_. _Finished_."

"_You're _breaking up with _me_?" Quentin demands, incredulousness evident in his expression and manner of speaking. He raises his hand to hit Antonio once more, but the brunette isn't having any of it any longer, his hand gripping Quentin's wrist tightly as he sent the other a scathing glare.

"I should've ended it a long time ago. Now get _out_. Get out!"

The Brazilian-Mexican, humiliated and hurt, began to pick up his clothes, all the while hurling insult after insult at the Spaniard, be it in his native tongue of Brazilian Portuguese or in plain English. Quentin tugged on his clothes as fast as he could, knocking several items off of Antonio's dresser before stomping out of the apartment Antonio shared with Francis and Gilbert, slamming the door behind him so hard, the walls reverberated.

Antonio's breathing was heavy; laboured. His jaw is set as he glowers at the open doorway, fists clenched until his knuckles were white. Tears of anger and resentment and frustration ran down his cheeks.

He had no right to cry, did he? He was in the wrong, after all.

He wasn't supposed to cry. He deserved all of this, didn't he?

Antonio curled into himself, wincing as the scratches on his arms stretched out. Guilt and disgust consumed him; all these different emotions stirring inside of him. He irritably tried to rub the tears away, but only more and more wound up running down his cheeks. Painfully, he mulls over everything that had transpired in the past 20 minutes, going every word, everything Quentin had said.

Heaving a sigh, he stretched out and examined the aftermath of everything. Angry red marks clawed down his arms, and he could already feel his face swelling. Where Quentin had beat his arms and bare back with his fists didn't really hurt that much while it was happening, but he could already tell they'd bruise in due time.

A minute later, he stood up and made his way to the kitchen to get an icepack from the freezer. Abruptly, he stilled in realisation, breath catching his throat.

Quentin never demanded to know who Antonio was talking about because he already knew _exactly_ who Lovino was.

* * *

_Shit. I can't do this_, Lovino thought to himself, for what was, unfortunately, the umpteenth time in the past-hour he and Allistor had been in Starbucks. In his opinion (and probably everyone else's), Allistor's taste in coffee was, truth be told, _shit_. Swear to God it was borderline inedible and it tasted fucking _terrible_. Really, no kidding!

How the hell did Allistor manage to digest two cups of this stuff everyday?

First of all, oh boy, the sugar didn't do _shit _to improve the flavour. Instead, it made it even worse. It wasn't remotely sweet; it tasted _acidic_. The creamers couldn't even take the pain and suffering away from drinking it either. The creamers did absolutely nothing.

No wonder there weren't any consequences to losing that stupid dare Allistor put him up to (then again, he was the one who agreed to it)— the bastard knew he couldn't finish it all along! God, just look at his fucking smug, perfect face.

It was frustrating, honestly. To think that Lovino already had something in mind for what he wanted! Ah, well, thing is, he's been eyeing this video game for quite some time. But then he saw this stupid (yet also very stylish) blazer from Zara he absolutely _needed _to have. So before this, it was sort of a crossroads decision for him. If he completed this dare, however, he could have both!

His face scrunched up with distaste as he stared down at the paper cup. Seriously, it's like he's been drinking it for_ever_. How it isn't half-empty is beyond him. And this entire time, Allistor's just been staring at him with a smug and entertained expression on his face.

Prick.

He could just tell the redhead was waiting for him to give up, like some sort of whiny pussy! Which he _partially _wanted to do. But he _wasn't_. His pride was on the line, dammit.

Lovino heaved an exasperated sigh. It was coffee. It was just coffee. He shouldn't even making such a big deal out of this. But why, oh, why did it have to taste like shit? Swear to God, Allistor's palate must be shot if he could tolerate drinking this crap everyday.

* * *

"Can't finish it, Lov?" Allistor asks, tone taking on a teasing lilt as he revels in the sight of his inamorato glaring at his cup of coffee.

"Shut up," Lovino grumbles, and the Scotsman laughs. He reaches over the table to take the other man's hand in his own, lightly stroking Lovino's knuckles with the pad of his thumb.

"Ah love yeh," he whispers, leaning in, and Lovino's face instantly reddens tenfold as he averts his gaze.

"_Not in public_," the Italian scolds lightly, before muttering in a much more hushed tone, "Love you too, jerk. Even if your preference in coffee is downright horrible. _Dio_, honestly."

_Bzzzt! Bzzzt! Bzzzt!_

Allistor and Lovino collectively glance down at the redhead's phone ringing on the table. The Scotsman's eyebrows furrow as he picks it up and stares at the caller ID.

…Why would Quentin Morales be calling him?

Hellos from passing each other by in campus hallways aside, he hadn't actually had a proper conversation with the bloke since last school year, where select art students had to paint a backdrop for the PA Department's rendition of Tchaikovsky's _Swan Lake_.

Well, never mind that. Must've been pretty important if Quentin went out of his way to call him. He raised the phone to his ear as he answered the call. "'Ello?"

Quentin doesn't bother beating around the bush. _"Are you free right now? I need to talk to you. It's urgent."_

Lovino looked at him questioningly and Allistor shrugged his shoulders. "Oh. Wha's wrong? Yeh alright there, mate?"

_"I just… wanted to give you a heads up about something. I'd… prefer if we talked about it in person, though. So are you free right now?"_

Allistor glances up at Lovino once more, who met his gaze for a second before taking another sip of his coffee and grimacing. The Scot couldn't help but smile, a light chuckle escaping his lips. "Ah'm in th' Starbucks near EHU right now. Ah'll meet yeh out front, yeah? Jus' message me when yeh're here."

A beat of silence before Quentin speaks up. _"Yeah. I'll see you in a bit."_

Quentin ends the call as a sigh left Allistor's lips, setting the phone back down on the table. "Yeh don't 'ave ta drink i' all, yeh know."

"And lose the dare? Are you kidding me? I won't accept defeat so easily, dammit!"

"Yeh've been drinkin' tha' for nearly an hour already!"

"Yeah, so? I like to take my precious time with your goddamned shitty brewed coffee. Ugh, _why do you like it this way_? Like, literally _nothing _you put in it makes it taste any better. _Any better_."

Allistor snorts at this. "Like Ah said— it's an acquired taste, luv!"

"That's bullshit though! Acquired taste is like— like _alcohol _and _wine_, and squid ink pasta, or something! Not _this_!" A laboured groan escaped Lovino's lips as he slumped forward, hazel eyes boring into the paper cup before him.

Deep down, deep, _deep _down, he knew it was all over. Like _hell _he was actually going to finish that godforsaken cup of coffee. But _Far Cry 4 _was calling out to him. So he'd try a bit more.

_Just _a bit more.

And maybe then, he'd consider giving up.

* * *

_Ding!_

**Quentin: I'm outside of Starbucks**

_Ding!_

**Quentin: Where u at?**

Allistor sits up and glances over Lovino's shoulder, staring out of the window. True enough, he sees the art student there, staring at his phone.

He pats Lovino's shoulder as he stands up. "Ah'll be back in a minute, luv. Ah'm jus' gonna talk ta a friend of mine outside, alright?"

The Scotsman walks out of the coffee shop, and upon closer inspection, he sees that Quentin's looking rather… worse for wear. His hair and clothes dishevelled, eyes swollen and red, as if he'd been crying.

"Oi, mate, are yeh alright?" Allistor asks cautiously, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Quentin looks up at him, a scowl marring his face. He sighs. "No. I got into a fight with my now _ex_-boyfriend."

"Oh. Well, Ah'm sorry about tha'. Had a pretty rough day, then."

"We broke up not even _half _an hour ago. So yes." Quentin spits out, bitterness evident in his tone. "I guess it _is _'pretty rough'."

Allistor couldn't help but wince, not knowing how to go about the conversation anymore. Not when Quentin is practically radiating hostility, and was now, somehow, redirecting that anger towards _him_. Was he?

Bloke's had a terrible day nonetheless.

"So," the redhead drawls awkwardly. "Wha'd yeh want ta talk about again?"

Quentin looks down at his feet, running a hand through his hair. "I'm sure you know my ex-boyfriend," he says, carelessly shrugging his shoulders, even though Allistor could certainly tell Quentin still _did _care (and very much at that)— but he did nothing of the sort to point out the man's façade of nonchalance. It'd only make things worse for the both of them.

"I…" Allistor trails off, not knowing where the conversation was headed. "Ah don't..? Why?"

"Oh, trust me. You do. His name is Antonio. I bet you've seen him hanging around with your boyfriend at least once or twice."

"Well," The Scotsman paused for a moment before continuing. He had a very bad feeling about this. "Then Ah know 'im, alright."

"This is just between you and me, okay. 'Cause, well, as it turns out, Antonio, he… he has _feelings _for your boyfriend, Lovino." Quentin meets Allistor's gaze evenly, a small bitter smirk on his lips. He pauses for a moment and glances in through the window, at the back of Lovino's head. "Not that I'm doubting Lovino _or _you, no… But I suggest you look out for him anyway. Antonio is just such a terrible, terrible person. Like, I _can't believe _I actually ever wanted him! Especially when all he did was _use _me and _manipulate _me."

"Oh," was Allistor's curt reply, taking both of them by surprise. Quentin had initially expected more of a reaction out of him than just… 'Oh'. The redhead blinked once, twice— a surge of anger and jealousy welling up inside of him to exponential proportions. "Well, thank yeh for telling me. Ah appreciate it, an' Ah'll talk ta him about it. But as far as Ah know, they 'aven't spoken in quite some time now."

Quentin nods slowly, taking a few steps back. "Good. That's— That's it, I guess."

"Are yeh sure?" Allistor's face scrunches up in concern. "Yeh going ta be alright?"

The Brazilian-Mexican snorts, shrugging his shoulders as if he didn't have a care in the world. "Are you _kidding me_? No. Of course not. I'm fucking pissed as hell. I could literally _kill _someone right now. But I have enough sensibility in myself not to."

"O-Oh. Well—"

"I better get on my way before I actually do."

"Right. Yeh do tha'. Um. Take it easy, bruv."

"I won't. But thanks anyway."

With that, Quentin walked away, his footfalls heavy on the damp concrete. Allistor himself needed a moment or two to regain his composure, taking a deep breath and rubbing his temples.

He knew it. He just _knew _it. He could tell Antonio fancied Lovino, from even before the Halloween party. 'Course. He wasn't an idiot. He could tell by the way Antonio looked at _his _boyfriend. He could practically feel possessiveness creeping into him as he cracked his knuckles, making his way back to his seat.

He places his hand on Lovino's shoulder, turning the Italian to face him before pressing his lips against the Italian's. Fuck what everyone else thought.

Lovino stiffened in surprise before kissing back and pulling away, face red hot. "What the hell—"

"Say, Lov. Yeh aren't on speaking terms with Antonio at th' moment, am Ah right?"

Lovino's brows furrow in confusion before he replies. "Yeah. I haven't talked to him in ages. He isn't even worth my time and effort."

Allistor smiles at this and takes his seat. That he isn't. "Good, good. Look, Ah don't want ta sound weird about this an' all, but; Ah don't want yeh ta associate yerself wif 'im. He's… really not a good person for yeh ta spend yer time with, Lov."

"You don't even have to tell me twice. Just seeing him makes my blood run cold."

"Ah'm serious, Lov."

"Yeah, well, so am I—" Lovino looks at him warily. "What— What happened?"

"Oh. Nothing in particular. Ah just—" A deep sigh. "_think _yeh should stay away from 'im."

"_Dio_, I am! I have _no _plans whatsoever of even _speaking _to him anytime soon, so don't worry, alright?"

"Yeah, yeah," Allistor murmurs, forest green eyes of his darkening in thought. "Ah shouldn't."

He reaches over the table and takes Lovino's hand in his own, distractedly tracing circles onto the back of his hand. Should he really be so worried? Perhaps he should confront Antonio about it. But he already backed off, though, so there was that.

But the Spaniard still had _feelings _for Lovino, that was the problem. And he hadn't the slightest clue as to how to make it… somehow stop? Allistor knew better than anyone else that you just couldn't help the way you felt for someone. If you're in love, then you're in love. Simple as that. It was the circumstances and other emotions that made it more complicated.

* * *

"_Fratello_, are you sure you'll be alright?"

Lovino grumbles from the general direction of the couch, his Macbook Pro propped up on a throw pillow on his lap, and non-fiction references of all kinds surrounding him in stacks and piles. "_Yes_, I'll be alright. I'm eighteen, Feliciano. And on top of that, I'm twenty minutes older than you!"

Feliciano smiles at this, walking around the penthouse as he got ready to go out with his friends for dinner. "Ve, you can't hold that over my head forever, y'know!"

The older Vargas turns to look at him, expression dead serious. "Just watch me." Then he stills for a second before glancing around the apartment. Feliciano finds himself looking around as well.

"Do you hear that?" Lovino asks.

Feliciano stays silent and listens for any odd noises, but aside from the music playing from Lovi's laptop, he can't hear anything out of the ordinary! "I don't hear anything! What is it?"

Lovino tuts in mock disapproval. "Why am I not surprised? That was the glorious, _beautiful _sound of me being older than you. The sound of me living life in the future, twenty minutes in advance."

Feli looks at him confusedly before giggling. "Ah, you're in a good mood today aren't you, _fratello_?"

"I guess," Lovino says, shrugging his shoulders. "What's it to ya?"

"Nothing, nothing~ Just glad you're happy today, Lovi. Well! I better head out now. I think Luddy and Kiku are already waiting for me." Feliciano walks over to his brother and kisses his cheeks. "You have a good night now, _fratello_."

Lovino stares at him blankly upon hearing mention of Ludwig's cringe-worthy nickname before rolling his yes. "Yeah, whatever, dammit. Just let me focus on my work already!"

Feli walked over to the front door, greeting the older Vargas another goodbye before exiting the penthouse, door locked behind him.

Several minutes of distracted typing and flipping through books lapse before Lovino finally deemed it a good enough time to take a Quick Break™. He closed his laptop and set it down on the coffee table in front of him before pulling out his brand new copy of _Far Cry 4 _out from under a throw pillow beside him and eagerly opening it up.

It was _beautiful_.

He's been going in and out of the bathroom the whole time he's been home— no thank you, evil brewed coffee— but fuck that shit.

He set up his PS4 and put the disk in.

Totally worth it.

* * *

It's bitingly cold the very moment Feliciano exits the apartment building, tugging his coat closer to himself. He stands still for a moment, texting Luddy that he was already on his way. Just as he glances up from his phone, he sees what was once a familiar face coming towards him down the street.

It's Antonio. Though the Spaniard initially meets Feliciano's eyes, he quickly averts his gaze, a polite smile on his face. "Hi, Feli. How have you been?"

But Feliciano doesn't hear it. Instead, he steps closer and leans in to examine the Spaniard's face. "Toni, what _happened _to you?"

A flash of panic crosses Antonio's face and he waves it off. "Ah, really, it's nothing! Don't worry about me."

"'Don't worry about me'?" Feliciano echoes. "Your face is all beat up! Who _did _this to you?"

"No one important," Antonio dismisses. "Really, Feli—" A pleading tone. "Don't worry about it."

Feliciano nods absently, growing silent for a few seconds. He clearly doesn't buy it, but Antonio hopes the Italian won't question him any further anyway. "Right." He takes a few steps back. "You— You take care, Antonio."

And that's the end of that.

As Antonio watches the younger Vargas walk past him, he lets out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding in. He's in front of the building Lovi's in, and it crosses his mind to go all the way up to the penthouse to talk to him.

But there was no way he could do that _now_. Especially not like _this_. He couldn't. What would he even say, right? Right?

Maybe he could perhaps try and make it up to him..?

Just as he takes a step towards the building, he remembers.

**_'Stay th' fuck away from me boyfriend, mate.'_**

Antonio stops.

He walks past the building instead.

* * *

When Antonio gets home, the sound of Gilbert and Francis' conversation suddenly grows silent as he shuts the front door behind him.

So they knew already, huh? That was fast…

"Hey Tone?" Gilbert calls out as the sound of the TV is turned down. Antonio doesn't answer him. He goes to his room, and sighs at the mess.

He shrugs his coat off and tosses it over a chair, and he begins to clean up. He picks his things up from the floor and puts them back where they belong. He rips off the stained bedsheets off of the mattress and balls it up. He tosses it into a corner where he usually keeps his laundry hamper. It hits the ground with a dull, unsatisfactory thump.

He lies down on the naked mattress, emotionally and physically exhausted. He just feels so drained, so empty. He wasn't sure how long he could keep it up before he finally lost it.

Franny knocks on his door at one point, asking Antonio to join him and Gilbert for dinner. Antonio straight-out declines, just wanting to be alone. The Frenchman offers to bring a plate to his room and chat, but Antonio refuses that as well.

Antonio's head is aching, and even though he felt cold, he was sweating bullets. Despite the pain in the back of his eyes, he reaches over for his laptop and opens it up. He books his plane tickets going to California. One-way.

He goes on Facebook, and sees that Quentin has already unfriended him, made a post calling him out set to 'Public'. He doesn't mention Antonio's name, but it was obvious it was already about him. He doesn't mention Lovino either. Which was good, he supposed. He didn't want Lovino's name run down to the mud via collateral damage. Lovino didn't deserve that. Antonio, however…

He sighs, changing his relationship status back to 'Single'. He goes back to Quentin's post about him and rereads it in its entirety, reading all the hateful comments made about him. His headache worsens. Antonio mulls over deactivating his Facebook entirely, but that'd only validate everything Quentin's been saying. And to be frank, he didn't want to give him that satisfaction. Instead, he closes his laptop shut and lies back down on his bed.

* * *

"…Anton. _Anton_! Antonio, wake up!"

Antonio is suddenly shaken into consciousness, Gilbert and Francis both hovering over him with concern etched onto their faces.

"_Mon Dieu_, Antonio, you're burning up!"

"I got the aspirin. Antonio, can you sit up?"

"Wait, he'll need something to eat first. I'll get him some saltines and water."

Antonio opens his eyes, but his lids are heavy with sleep. Everything feels hot, and he feels suffocated in the same clothes he fell asleep in. Gilbert helps him sit up slightly, and brushes the hair out of Antonio's face.

"Quentin did this to you, didn't he?" Gilbert asks. Antonio stares at him blankly, throat feeling far too dry for him to speak, even if he wanted to. Gilbert knows, anyway. He probably wanted confirmation. He raises something cold up to his bruised and swollen cheek, and Antonio realises it's an ice pack.

Francis comes back with a tall glass of water and a pack of saltines. He offers the glass to the Spaniard who takes a long sip. When he sets the glass back down, he clears his throat. "What time is it?"

They both frown at him in disapproval. "Tone," Gilbert speaks up, "I don't think you can go to class like this. Your face is beat up, you have a _raging fever_. You shouldn't push yourself."

Despite the aching of his head, he manages to give them a look of incredulousness. "Are you kidding me? I can't miss class _now_. Especially when my finals are just around the corner. I still have to do my lesson plan. I have obligations, I can't miss class."

"You should put your health first, _mon ami_." Francis says, sitting down on the bed beside Gilbert. "You're as sick as a dog. So at least for today, you should just rest first. You can go tomorrow."

Antonio reaches out for a saltine and nibbles into it. "I'm serious, I can't miss class. What time is it?"

Gilbert sighs. "It's 8:14."

"Okay, so I have class at ten. I can sleep it off first. I'll be fine. Then I can come back and sleep it off until my 2PM class."

"Antonio…"

"I'll be fine. Really. I can handle myself. And, if push comes to shove and I feel too tired or too sick, I'll skip class for the rest of the day and sleep it off. Happy now?"

"_Relatively_ satisfied. But first— medicine."

"Thank you~!" Antonio plucks the two pills right out of Franny's outstretched hand and pops them in his mouth, washing them down with another swig of water.

* * *

"Why didn't you hit him back?" Gilbert couldn't help but ask, glancing up from the dishes he was in the middle of putting away.

Antonio, bundled up in layers and layers of clothing and a wool blanket, stared wearily at the German and shrugged his shoulders.

"Like, you're both guys, so I don't think you should've let him do that to you without any sort of retaliation or self-defence. I mean, that's just me."

"You saw what he posted on Facebook?"

"Yeah."

"Mm. He was more trouble than he was worth," Antonio speculated. "I should've broken up with him sooner. I never really could see myself in a serious relationship with Quentin, or even longer than a fling, to be honest. But at least it's finally over and done with."

"And you haven't gotten over… over _Lovino _at all, _ja_?"

The corners of Antonio's lips quirk up into a small, sad smile. He said nothing.

That was all Gilbert needed to know.

* * *

Antonio throws himself into his schoolwork for the weeks following after everything that's happened. It's the most he can do in effort to ignore the nasty stares he's been getting from people he doesn't even know, and he _tries _to turn a blind eye to the even nastier rumours about him that've been circulating campus. Quentin definitely didn't waste any time in throwing shade about him or dragging his name into the mud with rumours whenever he could. Some of Antonio's exes even jumped on the bandwagon too.

There were people who commented their support for Quentin, even without bothering to know Antonio's side of things— but what could he do? What could he even say? If he tried to clear things up, it'd only complicate things even more.

His biggest mistake was actually letting what Francis and Gilbert thought get to him. He thought that maybe he could move on if he were with someone else, but in the end, it only proved that his feelings for Lovino weren't going away anywhere soon. Not now, not even in the near future.

But he had to admit; even if he wound up seeing someone else for a while after all, it would've been better if his ex didn't turn out to be a psychotic nut out to denigrate him at every possible moment.

Antonio couldn't let it get to him, even if it kind of did. It was the worst possible time for him to lose his focus. He's had to create a comprehensive lesson plan and his own teaching materials out of recycled items, and actually put that lesson plan into action. He's spent the past week alone teaching kindergarteners in Holy Trinity as a course requirement, and as for the last days of the semester, he'll only need to take a few more exams and submit the rest of his projects.

He was assigned to teach the Star class, which had all of Holy Trinity's brightest kindergarteners there. It was somewhat daunting, to say the least, since all these little kids were really so much smarter than the rest of their peers in the other classes. He'd even heard from a friend of his that most of these kids were already secured slots in Ivy League schools around the country!

But in the long run, he didn't mind the challenge very much. It constantly kept him on his feet and it kept him busy. And Antonio enjoyed teaching kids! He wanted to be a good role model for them somehow, even _if _he was a mess inside. He could never ever let that side of him show, so he immersed himself in teaching to the best of his ability.

* * *

Antonio couldn't take it anymore.

He was sick of all the gossip, all the lies. He was fed up with misunderstanding after misunderstanding. And most of all, he _missed Lovino_. He missed him so much, his heart ached just thinking about it. He misses talking to him, all their late night chats about the most inane things. About the little things. He wants to matter to Lovino again.

But the Italian wouldn't give him the time of day, even more so after he and Quentin broke up. Not even during the classes they had together, so Antonio was getting pretty… _desperate _in a way, or helpless. He had no idea what to do, or how to go about it. He was at a dead end.

He's tried texting the _one _person who could possibly help him— Feliciano— only to be ignored again. But he had to try. He needed to. He couldn't go this long without trying.

He couldn't just leave things as they were— he had to make an effort at least! Fuck what everyone else thought of him. None of that even matters when the one person he wants to matter to won't even spare him a glance.

So here he was, standing in the cold, outside of the Art Department. He's shifting from foot to foot; clearly anxious. He knew the Italian had class until 11AM on Wednesdays, so here he was. Waiting for him. He wasn't sure if Feli would be down to talk to him even in person, but he still had to try.

The moment it hits eleven o' clock, right on the dot, the bell rings; he can hear it. It takes a minute or so before a few students begin to pour out of the building, Feliciano being one of them. He's busy talking to a friend of his, laughing at something the other's said as they walk down the steps.

Antonio takes a step forward, then stops. A wave of panic hits him, but before he can psych himself out, he makes his way over to them.

The laughter in Feliciano's group quickly dies down as Antonio approaches. "Feli, can I talk to you?" He asks, tapping the Italian's shoulder.

Feliciano turns to face him, confusion written all over his face. "Antonio?"

"Feli, please?"

Feliciano looks at him in mild irritation before turning to his friends with a sheepish smile on his face. He excuses himself and the two of them go somewhere more isolated so they can talk about… well, whatever Antonio had in mind.

"What do you want, Antonio?" Feliciano is the first to speak, crossing his arms over his chest. And already, he looks impatient. It was an odd expression on the usually ebullient Italian's face, like it didn't belong there. Knowing Feli, it probably didn't.

"I need your help, Feli. I—"

Feliciano sighs.

"Please, Feli— Just hear me out first! What I did to Lovi was wrong. _Beyond _inexcusable. I— I admit it! I screwed up! I messed up, big time! I have no one else to blame that on but me. I just _really _need your help on this, _please_. I want to make things up to him, but he won't even _look _at me, let alone talk to me! Only you can get him to listen to me. I just— I want to make things right again. You have to help me Feli. Please—"

"Give me one _valid_ reason why I should help you." Feliciano cuts in, a hurt expression on his face. "I trusted you, Antonio. _He _trusted you! And you just go and treat him like that? You suddenly stop talking to him, and you really expect me to be okay with that?

I mean, you moved on _some_how with Quentin, right? Even if you two didn't work out, that _had _to mean something. Right?

Like, don't you think that it's about time you let go? For all our sakes, Antonio, just please, drop it! I understand that you and Lovi have had your differences before, and that you were even friends for a while! But that does _not _give you the right to treat him the way you did. He's still my _brother_, Antonio. And I will _always_ be looking out for him, even if he thinks otherwise.

So if you have _any _respect for me, then please, at the very least, respect his wishes and leave him alone. He's in a really good place now. He's _happy_! He has friends like Bella that actually care about him! And he has a boyfriend that _loves _him."

Antonio's face scrunches up. "I know that! I don't _want_ to 'let go'. That's— That's literally all I've been hearing! First, from Gilbert, then Francis… And now, you."

"Maybe because it's the right thing to do? I mean, I'll admit I actually thought you _cared _about him at first—"

"I did! And I still do. My feelings for Lovi haven't changed _at _all."

"Then why did you do it? Why did you suddenly think it was okay for you to treat him like he just fell off the face of the earth?"

Antonio drew and released a shaky breath. "Allistor told me to stay away from him. I just— I didn't know what to _do_. I never wanted to, but I thought— I _thought _that I could move on. But I couldn't. And I regret that."

Feliciano warily studies him for a few seconds before turning away. "I'm sorry, I can't help you."

Antonio's expression falls.

"Sometimes it's for the best to leave things as they are," he continues, and it feels like Antonio's heart is being squeezed right out of his chest. Was this really it? Was this really the ultimatum?

"Of all people, I thought that you would somehow understand me, Feli." Antonio can't help but admit, watching as the Italian took several steps away from him.

"That's the thing, Antonio," The younger Vargas responds, sighing in resolution. "I _did_. You have a good day, Antonio."

He turned his back on the Spaniard and walked away, to where his friends were waiting for him.

* * *

It wasn't until evening when Feliciano's guilt finally set in. An almost lost expression on his face, he absently watched Lovino finishing up preparing their dinner of herb-crusted salmon.

To Lovino, this doesn't go amiss, who drizzles a heaping spoonful of pesto on the fish post-haste and sets one plateful before his brother. "Oi! Why the fuck are you spacing out like that? It's fucking creepy, dammit."

Feliciano snaps out of his thoughts and feigned a smile; faked a laugh. "Ve~ _Mi dispiace, fratello_. I was distracted there for a minute!" Then his smile becomes much more genuine. "Ah, how was your day, Lovi?"

Lovino took his seat adjacent to Feliciano on the dining table, slicing a bit of fish off before biting it off the end of his fork and chewing thoughtfully. "It was okay, I guess? I can just already tell that algebra is going to be the death of me during finals, for one. That and the dreaded case of writer's block." Then he pauses and squints at Feliciano. "What's up with you, anyway? You look tired as fuck."

Feliciano sighs and begins to eat. "Ve~ I don't know… Maybe it's all the deadlines that are getting to me. It being finals and all."

That was _one _of the reasons why. The other main reason why he was so stressed was because of his conversation with Antonio earlier in the day. Maybe, perhaps, he'd been too harsh on him! After all, in the time that Feliciano knew him, Toni was genuinely a nice person… up until he stabbed Lovino in the back like that.

Feli refused to condone it; tolerate it. It reminded him too much of what Julio did, and he didn't want a repeat of that anymore. Lovi deserved to be surrounded by people who loved him and cared about him. He didn't deserve to be put in a position where he would be hurt again— especially when there was something Feliciano could do to prevent it.

Antonio _did _seem like he was genuinely sorry, but that wasn't enough. Feliciano couldn't go on the appearances of things alone. Even though it wasn't his place to dictate whom Lovi chose to affiliate himself with, he wanted to make sure that what happened with Julio, wouldn't happen again, if he could help it.

Lovino may have moved on from what happened, but Feliciano refused to let it go. For his brother's sake.

He knew from first-hand experience how badly it affected his brother. And he's grateful people like Bella and Allistor have brought Lovino out of his shell; something he couldn't do. Not in all those years.

And there was no way he'd ever willingly jeopardise that.

* * *

Hazel eyes stare at the digital clock on the upper-right corner of the laptop screen. It reads '**Mon 1:53 AM**' and it stares straight back at him. Lovino sighs, propping his elbow up on the desk and covering his face.

It was officially finals week, yet he was still awake. Sleep was calling to him, but he couldn't go to sleep _right now_. He was still working on his group's mini thesis, and it was due _today_, two PM. He would've been better off working on it alone, since he was stuck doing _all the fucking work anyway_. Seriously, fuck group projects. _Fuck them_.

Lovino growled in irritation and reached for the can of Redbull behind his laptop, taking another swig and eventually emptying the can as he tried messaging his groupmates once again on Facebook. But, alas— no dice. They were all probably sleeping right now. Peacefully. _Like he should've been five fucking hours ago. _He couldn't put in words how _pissed _he was right now. And what was even worse was that he had _nothing _to take it out on, save for a lengthy tirade on he and his friends' group chat.

He scratched his jaw and continued working on the appendices near the end of the thesis. If he got this done _now_, he could still catch about four or five hours of sleep before he had to wake up and review for his Sociology exam later in the day, and finish up his thesis too—

_Ding!_

Lovino stops typing and automatically reaches for his phone, but nothing comes up. He checks his laptop's browser and realises it's a notification from Facebook. His heart skips a beat and his blood runs cold the moment he sees '**Antonio messaged you**' and **'Facebook (1)' **alternately blinking at him. He clicks on the tab just as the notification for the PM came up on his phone.

**Antonio: Hey**

_Ding!_

**Antonio: Are you busy rn?**

The Italian is jogging his left leg in contemplation, not knowing whether or not to reply to him. Timely enough, a window from his laptop's Facetime app comes up and Bella's picture is on it. He stares at his own image in the smaller camera, fixing his hair a bit, before answering it.

"Don't you know what time it is?" Lovino asks, frowning at her.

_"Don't you? Your messages on the group chat woke me up. I was, like, wondering why my phone kept on vibrating and lighting up. Then I check Messenger and see it's just you, complaining about your group mates. Again."_

"You _do_ realise your phone has this nifty little thing called 'Do Not Disturb', right?"

_"Yeah, I do. Duh. But, like, I decided to— I dunno, be a good friend and weather this agony out with you. I might as well get a head start on studying right now anyway."_

"Mm, yeah. Antonio just messaged me on Facebook."

Bella blinks at him in surprise. _"You're still friends with him on Facebook?"_

"I know right? I thought I, like, unfriended him already or something."

_"What did he say?" _Bella asks, leaning over her bed for few seconds before she comes back up on screen with a small stack of books.

Lovino swipes back to the browser and reads the messages out to her. "'Hey. Are you busy right now?'"

_"Why is he even messaging you? Like, why now?" _Bella comments, frowning in distaste as she flipped through the first few pages of her pink notebook.

"I literally have no idea." Lovino mumbles. "Should I reply? Just to, like, get it over with?"

_"I mean, like, it's up to you. But personally, I wouldn't. He isn't worth the effort."_

Lovino drums his fingers on the wooden surface of his desk for a few seconds before typing in a reply.

**Lovino: What do u want?**

Almost immediately, it's marked as read and three dots come up.

_Ding!_

**Antonio: I really need to talk to you**

"I asked him what he wanted and he said he really needed to talk to me," Lovino relayed, quickly going back to his thesis to continue plotting the data into graphs and charts.

_"Well, about what?" _Bella asks, she herself slightly distracted as she carefully studied her notes.

"Lemme see."

**Lovino: About what?  
****Lovino: bc as far as i know, we have nothing to talk about  
****Lovino: at all**

Lovino's laptop began to ping incessantly with reply after reply.

**Antonio: I just want to clear things up between us  
****Antonio: Once and for all  
****Antonio: After that, if you still want me to leave you alone, then I will  
****Antonio: No questions asked  
****Antonio: I know I fucked up, and I got what was coming to me  
****Antonio: But I really think we should also talk about this in person**

"He said he wanted to 'clear things up between us', whatever the fuck _that _means." Lovino scoffs.

_"But what _is _there to 'clear up', though?" _Bella mutters, rolling her eyes.

"I know right?"

**Lovino: Lmao u ignore me for weeks, and now u suddenly want to talk things out?  
****Lovino: Judas please (:**

_"You've heard the rumours going around campus about him though, right?"_

Lovino snorts. "Who hasn't?"

He goes back to working on the appendices, ignoring the several pings that soon follow.

_"Why is he still messaging you?"_

"Beats me. It's a waste of my fucking time. I'm not talking to him."

_"Good. 'Cause, like, what if he was just doing damage control after all the crap that happened in school, am I right?"_

"Yeah, you have a point."

_"Swear to God, just blow him off."_

"I will. I'm not even messaging him right now. I should seenzone the fuck out of him and block his ass on Facebook."

Yet still, there was still this strong urge to go back and check on his Facebook, see whatever bullshit excuse Antonio's come up with _now_. The guy must've been pretty desperate, seeing how he was trying to make amends with Lovino of all people. There were all these rumours going around campus about him— Antonio— and if Feliks' sources were correct, then majority of those rumours came from the Spaniard's crazy ass ex.

His phone lit up as the notifications from his Facebook Messenger started pouring in. The Italian couldn't help but sneak a glance.

**Antonio Fernández Carriedo: I know you don't believe me but…  
****Antonio Fernández Carriedo: Which is why I think it's for the best…  
****Antonio Fernández Carriedo: I really am so sorry Lovino.  
****Antonio Fernández Carriedo: I don't expect things to go back to…**

Lovino frowned. The messages were truncated. He'd have to open them up on Messenger to see it in its entirety anyway. He snuck a glance at Bella, who was wearily reading her notes while watching stories on Snapchat. He switched back to Facebook.

**Antonio: I know you don't believe me but I swear it's not what you think it is.  
****Antonio: Which is why I think it's for the best if we talk this out face-to-face, no more misunderstandings.  
****Antonio: I really am so sorry Lovino.  
****Antonio: I don't expect things to go back to the way they were, no matter how much I want them to. I don't expect you to forgive me either. But you have to believe me when I say I never meant or wanted to hurt you.**

Lovino read the messages over and over with a blank expression on his face. He mulled it over as he finished up with the appendices, leaving the abstract for something he'd do later in the morning.

After all that's been done, and Bella's fallen asleep on camera, he switches from his desktop, which has the Facetime window still open, to his Facebook alternately. He decides to end the call with Bella and numbly browses through his news feed.

He notices Antonio's gone offline, which is when he decides to reply.

**Lovino: I don't even know what to say to you**

And, honestly, he doesn't know what to think or feel either. He was confused, angry, hurt… He thought he was over it, which he probably has been for some time, but Antonio messaging him resurfaced all of these emotions he didn't want to feel anymore.

Finally, he closes his laptop and flops down on his bed. He feels restless, and sleep doesn't come to him easily. His stomach is twisting and his thoughts are racing. He briefly considers blocking Antonio entirely, but decides against it. Then again, he wasn't even supposed to be talking to the bastard anyway.

He reaches for his phone and opens their messages up, only to panic when he sees that Antonio's back online again, and he was now typing a reply in response. He exits the app and switches his phone to 'Do Not Disturb'. He shoves his phone underneath his pillow and sighs.

"Since when did I become such a fucking coward?" He asks himself out loud, before turning on his side. Eventually, he falls into a dreamless slumber.

* * *

The rest of finals week is a blur of cramming, deadlines and stress. Lovino's made it a point to avoid Facebook under the guise of focussing on his exams, but another secondary reason to why he was absent on social media for that week was because he wanted to avoid opening whatever Antonio's sent him via private message. But he had to face the Spaniard _sometime _this week. It was inevitable. _Dio_, it felt like a fucking death sentence for some reason.

For his philosophy finals, he made it a point to sit all the way in the front, near the proctor. Antonio came in late and wound up sitting somewhere in the back. Lovino finished his exam before time was up and left before Antonio could even catch up with him.

The next time around, though, for their algebra exam, it was _Antonio _who came in early. Lovino chose to sit as far away from him as possible. The Spaniard stood up to switch seats and chose to sit right behind him.

"Lovi," he began, voice soft, but Lovino refused to hear it.

"Don't talk to me," Lovino grit out, aimlessly flipping through his notes. "I'm studying."

"Can I talk to you after this?" Antonio asks, a tinge of hopefulness in his tone, and it takes Lovino his all not to cave in. He thinks of Allistor, and how the redhead didn't want him talking to Antonio, and his resolve strengthens.

"No. I'm busy."

Antonio didn't press further, for which Lovino was grateful.

When the exam began, the Italian set about finishing his exam as fast, yet as thoroughly as possible. Just as he was starting to lose his mind over the last few pages, Antonio stood up and submitted his exam to the proctor before walking out of the room. Lovino let out a deep breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding in, his shoulders visibly relaxing.

…Finally.

Lovino took his sweet time with the rest of his exam, even going over the ones he'd already answered just to make sure he got them correctly. Even then, it didn't take long. It took him about ten to fifteen minutes tops. He submitted his exam and exited the room, stiffening in surprise when he finds himself face-to-face with Antonio.

Before Antonio can even get a word in, Lovino takes a left and starts to walk away from him, but the Spaniard isn't giving up. He follows Lovino down the empty hallway, reaching out to grab the Italian's arm.

"Don't touch me!" Lovino hisses, twisting his arm out of Antonio's grasp. "Why won't you leave me the fuck alone?"

"Please, Lovi, I need to talk to you." Antonio pleads, still hot on his heels.

"Well I don't _want _to talk to you!" Lovino exclaims, exiting the courtyard and subconsciously making his way to the glasshouse situated in the side of the campus. His boots sunk into the snow with each step he took off the beaten path, yet he paid it no heed. "And _don't _call me 'Lovi'. Whatever you have to say, I don't wanna hear it! I'm sure it's a crock full of shit, anyway."

Then he stops and turns to face the Spaniard. "You've got some fucking nerve, talking to me again after all the bullshit you put me through!" Lovino, in a fit of anger, started making a snowball, since there was no other suitable (and preferably _painful_) projectile in sight.

"I'm sorry!" Antonio says, a bit louder now since they're out in the open, yet still isolated from the rest of the campus. "I know I screwed up, alright? I know it was all my fault, I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"So _now_ you say sorry? So _now_ you choose it's the _best _time to fucking apologise to me?" Lovino snarls, packing in even more snow, hoping it had at least a tiny rock inside it or something. For added injury to fucking injury. Asshole deserved it too. He hurled it straight at Antonio and it hit him in the chest.

"Ow!"

"Two fucking months! Two fucking months I've been wondering why you suddenly stop talking to me! Why I wasn't good enough for you all of a fucking sudden! Prick! 'Sorry' my fucking ass, you stupid cunt," Lovino reached down to make another snowball. It hits Antonio's face with a satisfying smack. "You can't put people on a shelf and decide when you want them again! That's not how fucking _friendship works_, you fucking asspad! That's not how _anything _works! Even _I _know that, as socially fucking inept as I am."

"I'm sorry," Antonio says again, and in that moment, they're the only two words he can say. He can't say it enough. He's repeating apologies, even though the damage has been done. And it's been done for two whole months already. "It's just that Allistor told me to stay away from you, and my friends didn't want me talking to you either, so I— I _panicked_, okay? I didn't know what else to do, so I listened to them instead of standing up for myself! And in the end, I took it out on you. For that, I am _so sorry_. Really. I know you don't believe me, but I really, _truly _never meant to hurt you. And If I could take it all back, I swear I would. In a heartbeat."

_You're everything to me._

Lovino stares at him, a distraught and hurt expression on his face.

_I love you._

A pregnant silence falls on them, and for the first time, Antonio can really see just how _conflicted _Lovino felt about all this. Why wasn't he saying anything? Or, at least, yelling at him? Why was he so quiet? _Díos_, so very quiet.

"Say something," Antonio whispers. "…Please?"

Lovino looks away and sighs, rubbing his face. Antonio steps forward, hands prepared to reach up and wipe the tears from Lovino's face if need be. The Italian takes a step back in response, his eyes narrowed and trained on him.

"I don't know what you want from me." Lovino begins, trying to steady his quivering voice. He hated the fact he got so _emotional _sometimes. Especially when it came to arguments like _this_. "Like, you say _one _thing, but you do the complete opposite. And, like, maybe _that's _how you do things with your shitty, _shitty _friends, but I am not them. Don't you even dare bring Allistor in this, either. Because as far as I know, everything I've heard about you's been proven to be true. If you can't deal with my friends and boyfriend looking out for me, then maybe it's about time you take a good long, hard look at yourself. Not that I'm any better. But still."

"I'm sorry," Antonio reiterates, shoulders slumping in defeat as he finally reached the end of his rope. "I really am."

"Stop saying sorry," Lovino scolds, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's fucking annoying."

Antonio opens his mouth to apologise for apologising so much, but he manages to bite his tongue.

"I just don't know what to do," the Spaniard admits quietly, emerald eyes locking with hazel ones. His eyes glaze over the older Vargas' form, his heart swelling with so much emotion, so much _love_, yet aching at the same time. Lovino's still breathtakingly handsome, as always.

"You're the one to talk," Lovino says. "I shouldn't even be talking to you right now."

More silence.

A standstill.

The Italian shifts about in discomfort; it's obvious he'd rather be anywhere else but here. Though it is something to note that he hasn't stormed off, or even walked away from him just yet— like Feliciano had. If Lovino _truly _wanted to go, he could have. Would have, rather. But he didn't. That _had _to mean something, right? Right?

Or was Antonio just lying to himself to soften the blow? Trying to find silver linings where they weren't. If it could even be called that.

"Face it. What you did was a dick move." Lovino says bluntly, throwing that fact out there to get it over with. When he sees Antonio about to open his damn yap to speak, he cuts the Spaniard off, raising a hand up to stop him. "No. You shut up and listen to _me_. I am _sick _and fed up with listening to your shitty ass excuses. They don't excuse what you did. Capisce?"

Antonio nods almost obsequiously, emerald eyes of his wide and a stupid, annoying pout on his face. He looked like a kicked puppy, which made Lovino feel even worse. Fucking bastard. But this had to be done.

Lovino looks at him warily before he continues, "But I get that you're human, and that sometimes, people fuck up and make mistakes. Me, I probably know that better than anyone else. And, God, I don't even know," a shrug of the shoulders. "I'll probably get over it sometime in the future, and maybe then we might be able to move on from this? But for now, I can't. I can't forgive you, no matter how many times you say you're sorry. 'Cause honestly, I don't believe it. At all. And it's not that I'm even questioning the integrity of your apologies, it's just that I'm questioning your decency as a human being. You fucking asshole."

The Spaniard nods once again in acknowledgement, his heart racing against his chest. "I understand." He says, solemnly, until he asks not without a hint of hopefulness, and without skipping a beat, "Does that mean you'll give me another chance?"

He watched as Lovino's stare grew from serious to a mixture of sheepishness and exasperation. "I said 'maybe'_— _**_maybe_****—** we might be able to move on from this— hey!"

Before Antonio could even stop himself, he lunged forward and hugged the Italian, joy and relief swelling up inside of him. It may have been just a 'maybe', but it was still _some_thing. Antonio was glad to take whatever he could get.

"L-Let go of me, dammit! Someone might see!" Lovino hisses, wriggling out of the Spaniard's grateful embrace. Though reluctant, Antonio gives him one more squeeze before pulling away.

"Ah, _lo siento_, Lovi…"

"Whatever," Lovino mutters, rolling his eyes, before his expression turns serious. "_Don't _tell anyone I talked to you about this, okay? Not even your shithead friends. And, especially, _heaven forbid_, Allistor. Got it?"

Antonio nods. "Got it."

"Look, I have to go. I have another exam I need to study for," the Vargas continues, taking several steps away from Antonio. "So I'll see you around. Maybe."

The Spaniard beams at him from ear to ear, his smile the most genuine its been in a very long time. He can't help it— he can't stop smiling! _Díos_, he was just so happy~! He was so happy, it almost made his heart ache! "Of course! I understand. Good luck on your exam, Lovi. Hope you have a great day."

_I love you~!_

"Yeah." And for a second, a small, uncertain smile graces the Italian's lips. "You too."

* * *

Monday, once again.

Finals week is finally done, and it's around three hours before Lovino's flight to New York is set to depart. A sigh escapes his lips as his Range Rover rolls to a halt (because like _hell _he'd let Feliciano drive _his _car while _he _was in it) and pulls up in a parking slot right by the Spokane International Airport. He stares out of the slightly frosted window, eyeing the sea of travellers with a hint of weariness in his gaze. Out of all his friends, he was the only one going on EHU's exposure trip. The others were either staying right here in America, or going back to their home countries for the meantime.

Feliciano would be staying here in Spokane for winter break though, in the same house they spent Thanksgiving in. He'd be driving straight home for the meantime before making a trip back to the airport once _Nonno_'s plane from Italy arrives later in the afternoon.

The Vargas twins exited the car, and Lovino opened up the back door, pulling two of his Louis Vuitton (Lovino's initials were LV for a reason) suitcases out of the Range Rover and setting it down on a cart Feliciano had wheeled in. He had a matching knapsack too, so he slung that over his shoulder and wheeled the cart back up the ramp as Feliciano shut the back door closed. Lovino locked the car before slapping the keys into Feliciano's hands.

"Are you sure you're gonna be okay?" Lovino asks of his younger brother, when really, it probably should've been the other way around.

Feliciano smiles blithely at him. "Ve~ Don't worry about me, _fratello_! I'll be fine!"

The older Vargas stares at him warily, raising an eyebrow up as he went on ahead and walked into the airport building, his younger twin trailing close behind him. To be honest, he was slightly worried about letting Feliciano drive home. Not _only _was his brother a pitifully shitty driver, but the roads had a tendency to be slippery at times. It was a bad combination; a dangerous one— but he decided to shrug it out of his mind before the paranoia could seep into his thoughts any further. No use suddenly having a fucking panic attack midair for something you no longer had control of.

"There they are!" Feliciano exclaimed, pointing to a cluster of familiar faces conglomerating in one area of the airport concourse. They reached the group just as Professor Sharp was in the midst of roll call. Feliciano reached out and touched Lovino's elbow lightly. "Ah, _fratello_, I'll go now, alright? There's still enough time for me to go grocery shopping before I get home. Then I can have a siesta and pick _Nonno _up later~!"

Lovino looks at him, brows furrowed. He shrugs his shoulders, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Whatever. If you want to leave, then I'm not stopping you, dammit…"

Feli smiles before leaning in to hug his brother. "You take care now, Lovi! Hope you have lots of fun in New York!"

"Yeah, yeah, I will," Lovino grumbles, hugging Feliciano right back. Once he pulls away, Feli kisses his cheeks twice and Lovino does the same.

With one last wave, Feliciano bids his brother goodbye before hurrying out of the airport.

Lovino watches his brother's retreating back until he can't see him anymore before he eventually focusses on everything else.

* * *

_Ding!_

A text message from Allistor.

**Allistor: Stay safe on your trip luv ;-) you take care now xx**

_Ding!_

**Allistor: I love you :-)**

Lovino couldn't help the stupid dorky smile from erupting on his face, a light blush spreading across his cheeks. Allistor and his old-people emoticons strike once again. Somehow, those unnecessary noses in the faces made Allistor's texts even more endearing. Fuck, what did Lovino ever do to deserve him?

**Lovino: Love you too, you fucking dork hahaha  
****Lovino: I'll call you when I get there  
****Lovino: I'm about to board the plane ttyl**

Just as Lovino is about to set his phone to Airplane Mode, he gets a notification from Facebook Messenger.

**Antonio Fernández Carriedo: Have a great day, Lovi! :D**

…Ah. About that.

He never blocked Antonio on Facebook, but he never _un_blocked his number on his phone either. So.

Lovino glances up; considers replying to Antonio since everyone else is already starting to fall in line so they could board the plane. He sends a quick **'thanks. you too lmao' **before switching his phone to airplane mode and readying his passport.

Within minutes, he's already sitting at his designated window seat, near some other people from his Creative Writing class. He watches as Professor Sharp stands up to do a final headcount. Her piercing grey eyes meet his, and she smiles amiably. The corner of Lovino's lip quirks up before he glances back down on his lap so he could put his earphones in and buckle his seatbelt. Ensconcing himself further into his seat, The Maine fills his ears as he stares out the window as the plane began taxiing along the damp airstrip.

Within a few hours, he would be in the Big Apple; the city that never sleeps.

* * *

**Translations:**

_Díos/Dio _\- God (Esp./It.)  
_fratello _\- brother (It.)  
_mon Dieu _\- my God (Fr.)  
_mon ami _\- my friend (Fr.)  
_ja _\- yes (Dt.)  
_mi dispiace _\- forgive me (It.)  
_lo siento _\- sorry (Esp.)  
_nonno _\- grandfather (It.)

**…It took me seven rewrites before I finally finished this. This chapter was originally supposed to include Lovi's trip too, but I drew the line right there since it'd be too long. What do you guys think? Also, I ****_am _****considering adding more… ~explicit~ (honhon :{D ) content in future chapters, so if you could give me any tips to what limits I shouldn't compromise lest this story gets taken down, please tell me!**

**Please don't forget to review~! Constructive criticism is also appreciated and very much welcome. I'd like to do everything I can to make this story A Really Good One™. I appreciate all of your feedback, reviews, and your patience— because I'm honestly not the fastest updater out there! Sometimes I read through your reviews when I'm having a bad day, and I end up smiling. So, honestly, thank you.**

**~jellydonut16~**

**P.S. Shameless plug #1: Lovi has his own blog on Tumblr and his URL is 'pxss-off'. Planning to add some blog entries written by him about his trip to New York. :D Some bonus content for you all~**

**Shameless plug #2: I have a Facebook page where I usually post status updates and/or teasers regarding this story or new ones I'm working on. You can find me jellydonut16.**

**Shameless plug #3: I posted a new story while I was in the middle of working on KTBL! It's called ****_Before I Met You_**** and it's a collection of short prose poems, all written in Lovino's POV. It is Romano x world with Spamano as the final pairing. Feel free to check that out too!**

**P.P.S. It's actually sad when I read the earlier chapters of this story and compared it to this one. From Antonio lowkey trying to bug Lovino about Feli and asking him inane questions, to Antonio having to plead with Lovino just to talk to him. A lot can change in such a small amount of time.**


	24. twenty-four

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.  
****This chapter contains explicit content.**

**_Kicking The Bucket List  
_****twenty-four**

**"****_I wanna be all you think about  
_****_Anything and everything you dream about  
_****_As if I had it all figured out  
_****_I wanna be the one you can't breathe without_****"  
****— ****_COMA _****by Issues**

New York City sure was something else.

Like, sure, Lovino's been to different cities lots of times, and even though Spokane was as bustling as it was picturesque, there was something _surreal _and _new _and _different _about New York.

Most of what he knew of the city that never sleeps, he got from books or movies, or off of Tumblr posts, as well as his own brief stay at the Waldorf Astoria— but even then, the latter wasn't a good enough representation of what it was really like in New York, probably. Of what he was feeling and seeing right now.

Maybe it was something reserved only for non-New Yorkers or tourists, but the city _did _have a different air to it. It's a melting pot of culture, and the streets he's going down right now probably had a lot of significance. Maybe those who lived in New York felt as he would about Spokane. Slight indifference, perhaps, because they experience it and live in it everyday. That in itself was kind of sad, even for him. Perhaps they've become so jaded and numb to everything around themselves, that they can't see the beauty everybody else does.

* * *

By the time the students of Evergreen Hollows University had arrived at their hotel, it was already midday. The students hauled their belongings out of the tour bus and into the hotel lobby, abuzz with excitement. After check-in, Lovino found himself rooming with an upbeat-looking blond who introduced himself as Tino Väinämöinen— a sophomore taking up media production, who had just transferred to EHU from a university in Finland just this semester.

Lovino, too, gave a curt introduction, and made mention of his Italian roots. It was something of the norm in Evergreen Hollows University, especially with the conglomerate of international students within its campus. Whenever one would introduce themselves, it was customary of them to include their nationality in addition to their name, year level, and chosen course. It was a quirky phenomenon found in EHU, especially compared to other institutions.

The students were given two hours of rest to settle down before having a late lunch and a seminar after, so Lovino called dibs on the bed near the small balcony and flopped down on it, pulling his phone out of his pocket and switching Airplane Mode off. He lay on his back and stared at the ceiling as he waited for all his notifications to finish pouring in, vibrating almost incessantly. It was only when the notifications seemed to stop when he dared take a look.

And alas!

Surprise, surprise; most of them were from he and his friends' group chat. He lazily skimmed through the notifications, some from Instagram popping in between, and absently noted that there was one from Antonio.

Right.

_About _that. Yeah. Allistor _still _doesn't know that he and Antonio are on speaking terms again. Does Lovino feel particularly guilty about it? _Kinda_. From time to time, he put himself in Allistor's shoes and figured that he wouldn't like it either if Allistor talked to someone he hated, like that fuckface Francis, which he already fucking _does_.

Was it wrong for him to talk to Antonio though? Probably not, right?

Like, after all, it wasn't like he and Antonio were _super-close_ (anymore) or anything like that. Especially _now_. They were just… Shit, well, they definitely weren't _acquaintances _anymore. But they weren't really friends (again) either, or something like that, because Lovino still kinda felt awkward around the Spaniard. Especially knowing that Allistor didn't like Antonio at _all_.

If anything, he and Antonio had a lot of history with each other. Both good and bad.

Ah, well, whatever. Lovino shrugged _that _train of thought out of his mind before it confused him any further, and sent Allistor a text.

**Lovino: Hey babe  
****Lovino: Just checked in and got to my room**

Within seconds, the messages were marked as 'Read' and Lovino couldn't help but smile a giddy (and probably cringe-worthy) smile as his heartbeat sped up.

_Ding!_

**Allistor: That's great! I'm glad you got there safe, luv :-) How was your flight? xx**

Lovino began to type a reply, only to be interrupted with an incoming call. Despite his tiredness, out of courtesy for his roomie, he got up and stepped out to the balcony. It was relatively small, and like the weather, the floor tiles and fence were grey.

"Hey," said Lovino, his breath coming out in puffs as he shoved his free hand into his pocket. "I missed you."

_"Ah missed yeh too, luv! 'Ow was yer flight?" _Allistor asks, and again, it has this weird effect on him. It literally makes no fucking sense at _all_, but— but just _hearing _Allistor's voice feels like sunshine. Yeah, even in this dreary, shitty weather; or maybe, perhaps, especially so. The redhead's voice was just so _warm _and _loving_, sometimes it overwhelmed the Italian just trying to comprehend it and how it made him feel.

It was one of those small moments when you take the time to remember, 'Oh yeah. He _loves _me.' A-And it would leave you quietly stunned that, even though you didn't think much of it if you felt that way for someone, it was a lot more different when you considered the fact that someone could also feel that way for you in return.

"It was okay, I guess? Like nothing really happened, _which is a good thing_," Lovino replies, walking from one end of the balcony to the other. And for a moment, he takes in the view of all the buildings around the one he was in now, stands near the railing and stares at all the passersby going about their day. "But now, I'm just kinda tired. Or sleepy, I dunno, I could really use a long ass siesta, but I only have, like, two hours before I have a late lunch."

_"Yeah? Do yeh want ta go ahead an' sleep first, Lov? Ah can call back later—"_

"No, no, it's fine," Lovino interjects quickly. In a much more hushed voice, he says to him, "I'd… rather talk to you anyway."

_"Alright. But if yeh want ta go ahead an' rest, jus' tell me, okay?"_

"Yeah, yeah."

And even though he was flushed red from the cold, that wasn't the _only _reason why crimson crawled its way up to his ears.

* * *

On the sunnier side of the West Coast, Antonio is busy helping his tía out with making empanadas. Every so often, he would check his phone to see if Lovino replied. Last message he received from the Italian was just prior the latter boarding his flight for a school trip to New York. Antonio half-wished he could have tagged along… But really, in the end, he would rather go back home.

Mamá was upstairs resting. This morning she came back for a little while, but within hours, she had lost herself again. To her illness, to her sickness.

Antonio could never, _would _never get used to it. It struck him like a stab to the chest with a dull-edged knife every time. It was hard to watch. _Díos_, what the hell is he even saying? Of course it's hard to watch, it _always _is. That's why Alva is always gone all the time. Working. Even when he's here, he's still working. And Antonio didn't want it to become this new normal either— but what could he do? All he could do was just… stand and watch? Let time with her slip through his fingers just like that? Was that really _it_?

His brother spent a lot to get their mother into experimental treatments and therapies… None of them worked, 'course, but oh, had he _hoped _oh-so fervently that his mamá would come around, come back again, and be here to stay.

That— That _somehow_, they could defeat the odds and everything would go back to normal. Go back to the way it was always supposed to be, the way it should have been.

He fears (and knows) that it probably won't— He uses the term 'probably' very loosely here, but still, in all that dark there is a sliver of bright, white hope that shines through the cracks.

Lost in his thoughts, he washes his hands and excuses himself before he heads up to his bedroom. He sits down on his double-bed, the fresh red linens crisp and inviting. Antonio pulls his laptop out from under his pillow and goes on Facebook. He checks if Lovino's been online.

Nope. He hasn't. He was probably off having fun now, anyway. It's not like Lovino had any obligation or reason to talk to him or anything…

Antonio instead replies to Gilbert and Francis' texts and tosses his phone beside him on the bed. His face is expressionless and his gaze is hollow as he unconsciously bores holes into the WWE poster haphazardly taped to his wall. John Cena stares back at him as he thinks.

Very suddenly (or not suddenly), a deep longing came over him, and he inhaled sharply. He _misses _Lovino. But how can you miss what you don't even have? How can you miss someone who was never yours in the first place?

Was it still right for Antonio to feel this way? Should he have thought about this from earlier on? Not that his emotions would, could, change just by simply putting his mind to it, no— it was much more complicated than that. The _heart _was much more complicated than that, emotions working in ways one couldn't even fathom.

There was no changing what he felt for Lovino in this moment, at least, no matter what he did in effort to get the Italian off his mind, or who he tried to distract himself with. And yet for some reason, the very thought of looking at Lovino and feeling nothing fluttering in his stomach, or his heart not skipping a beat anymore when he looked at him made him feel sad. Which was weird considering the fact that he'd been with, ah, quite a few people already— and he's gone through the exact same process of falling out of love. And he wasn't exactly fearful of losing them then, was he?

…No. He wasn't. But it's _different _now. _Lovino _is different. Almost within arm's reach, but always out of grasp. Antonio shakes his head, this time checking his phone to see if Lovino's online yet.

Still nothing.

* * *

After a late lunch in the hotel restaurant, the students all waited in one of the building's conference halls for their first seminar. Personally, Lovino was still a bit iffy about the seminars or forums that would be taking place during the exposure trip. Like he knew it was supposed to be for educational purposes, and not for recreational ones, but it's not like he wanted it to be an extension of _school _or anything. And he's already had enough of that shit. He's got his finals over and done with and as much as possible he wanted nothing to do with lessons.

Since he didn't know anyone else on the trip aside from Tino, he chose to sit somewhere in the middle by himself, the poor, lonely motherfucker. If only Allistor were here too, right? He brought his phone out and checked the time; he had around twenty-five more minutes before the seminar was due to start. He took that as the opportunity to finally sift through his notifications, since he _did _wind up taking a power nap after talking to Allistor.

He prioritised the group chat first since it had the most messages. And in his experience, the more messages it had, the more it seemed like a chore to read through. _Any_ways, Bella boarded her flight back to Europe so she was currently offline, while Michelle was online a few minutes ago, busying herself with packing her Hello Kitty suitcases for her family trip to St. Barths.

Liz uploaded a mirror selfie she took in an Urban Outfitters' dressing room, showing off an outfit she was planning on getting for a date with Roderich later tonight.

Feliks, well, he already _was _on a date with, uh, Toris, was it? He Snapchatted the whole thing and uploaded his snaps on the group chat. He was still online nonetheless, though. Poor Toris. Even on a fucking date, Feliks couldn't keep away from his phone.

Lovino contemplated between leaving a message or leaving them on 'seen'. He didn't know what to say, so he just seen-zoned them (for now, really) before moving on to the only other message he knew he'd bother replying to.

Antonio.

**Antonio: Tell me when you get there Lovi! :D Stay safe, alright?**

Lovino pauses for a second. Then types in a reply.

**Lovino: Thanks  
****Lovino: I just got here like a few hours ago  
****Lovino: I'm waiting for this stupid talk to start and I'm bored as fuck rn. Entertain me dammit**

Okay. Word-vomit. He just planned on saying 'thanks' yet the rest of _that _came straight out of nowhere. But whatever. He was about to close his phone's screen when the messages were instantly marked as read and three dots came up as Antonio was typing in a reply probably.

Guess he wasn't the only one that was bored.

**Antonio: Hey Lovi! How was your flight?**

Lovino snorts, typing in a reply.

**Lovino: Boring and uneventful, thankfully.**

**Antonio: How much room is needed for fungi to grow?**

**Lovino: Shit  
Lovino: Do I want to know?  
****Lovino: Fuck idk**

**Antonio: As mushroom as possible.**

What the fuck?

What **_was _**that?

**Lovino: FUCK YOU  
****Lovino: DELETE YOURSELF  
Lovino: GO TO HELL**

**Antonio: HAHAHAHAHAHA**

**Lovino: AAAAGGHHHHHHHH**

**Antonio: Are you not entertained? ;) jajaja**

**Lovino: UGHHH SHUT UP**

**Antonio: Lol I guess not hahaha  
****Antonio: How about another one?**

**Lovino: NO  
****Lovino: STOP**

**Antonio: Lovi… is your greatest weakness possibly… puns?**

**Lovino: Idk? No? They just piss me off okay**

**Antonio: Okay, okay haha**

**Lovino: They're what I love to hate  
****Lovino: What are u up to anyway?**

**Antonio: I'm back in Cali for winter break :D just helped my aunt make empanadas  
****Antonio: You ever been to California?**

**Lovino: Nah lmao  
****Lovino: I actually haven't travelled much around the US but I want to, I guess? I wanted to go there for spring break maybe**

About that… Yeah. He should probably bring it up with his friends. Bella might be down for it, since he knew that her family owned a summer villa in Calabasas. But it would be even more fun if the rest of the squad could come with them.

He switched back to the group chat and brought it up.

**Lovino: what do we do for spring break?  
****Lovino: let's go to California lmao  
****Lovino: Florida's too crowded for me**

Feliks' reply was almost instantaneous.

**Feliks: Bitch, anywhere with people is too crowded for you ¯\\_(ツ****)_/¯  
****Feliks: HAHAHAHA**

**Lovino: tru lmao hahahahahaha**

**Michelle: FUKC IM CRYIGN HAHAHAHA  
****Michelle: HTAT FUCKING EMOTICON**

**Lovino: go back to packing chelle**

**Michelle: Ugh nooo  
****Michelle: I'll continue laterr  
****Michelle: I'm all for cali tho! Where in CA? Let's go to Hollywood, maybe I'll get discovered there ahahhaha**

**Lovino: how the fuck are they gonna discover u  
****Lovino: OHH DUDE  
****Lovino: MAYBE YOU AND FELIKS CAN LIKE  
****Lovino: DANCE IN PUBLIC  
****Lovino: LIKE THE GUYS WHO DANCED TO SPICE GIRLS IN PARIS  
****Lovino: who knows, maybe it'll go viral?**

**Michelle: U mean Yanis Marshall? I looooove himmm!  
****Michelle: I attended a few of his classes while I was in Paris last summerrr  
****Michelle: I have sooo much respect for him, dancing in heels is HARD AF  
****Michelle: RIP to my Jeffrey Campbell lita booties BUT IT WAS SO WORTH IT.**

**Feliks: Holy shit did they break or something?**

**Michelle: Nooo they're just really worn out now haha**

Amidst all this, Lovino thinks about other things. Sure, he liked shoes and all, but he couldn't really vibe with Feliks and Michelle on _that _level. Anyways, maybe Allistor would want to spend spring break together too? It'd be fun. _Really _fun. And maybe if the squad had other plans and their trip didn't push through, it could be… just him and Allistor, maybe? Just the two of them?

His imagination couldn't help but wander. Maybe instead of taking a plane, they could drive down there together. They could take his Range Rover, and shove all of their shit in the back of the car, because like _hell _all their shit would fit in the trunk of Allistor's Mustang, as gorgeous of a car it was. They would take turns driving, but they'd still hold hands anyway, and they would listen to the bands that they liked. Maybe they could drive with the windows open, but like fucking _hell _Lovino would want to risk a swarm of insects inadvertently getting into his car.

Briefly Lovino wondered what it could be like if he could just— just _run away _with him. Like, what if they eloped? Then that means they'd have to go to Vegas instead then. Right? But he wasn't too sure about having a fake Elvis officiating their shotgun wedding. Were there only Elvis impersonators? Were there James Brown impersonators too? He didn't even _want _to think about how disappointed Feliciano and _Nonno _would be in him if he up and left to get hitched—

**_Wait._**

_What..?_

_No._

_No, no, no._

What the _fuuuuck_?

Literally what the ever loving fuck just happened? C'mon Lovino, you did _not _just fucking think that! Jesus Christ, what the hell's gotten into him? Fuck. It's _waaay _too early to be thinking about shit like _marriage_. Ha! He just started college for fuck's sake.

As _nice _as it was to think about, honestly.

Well, yeah. Maybe. Maybe one day. When the both of them are ready. R-Right? It's only normal to think about shit like this, right? It— It wasn't weird or anything, right? Or was it weird because he was a guy? Don't girls usually fantasise about marriage?

Shaking _those _thoughts out of his head, he switched back to his chat with Antonio, all the while trying to suppress the vibrant red flush threatening to crawl up his cheeks and all the way up to his ears.

**Antonio: If you do come over here for spring break, you can crash at my place! :D It's really nice here haha~**

**Lovino: Lol sure  
****Lovino: We'll see**

Antonio sent a picture of freshly-cooked empanadas, the crisp shell still glistening with hot cooking oil.

**Lovino: Looks nice!**

**Antonio: They taste nice too :D Wish you were here to try them! How about I make you some when we're both in Spokane? :)**

**Lovino: Sounds great haha**

And, well, Lovino didn't really know what to say to that. He could feel the conversation kinda coming to a dead end. Again, he was reminded of the fact that his boyfriend would be really, really upset, probably, if he knew that Lovino's been talking to Antonio behind his back. He tried to ignore the twinge of guilt poking at his conscience.

Ah, fuck. Now he felt awkward again, but he's always been awkward, so it's the guilt that's been amplifying his awkwardness tenfold. Now it felt all weird and shit, even though it always has been, sort of. Like, Lovino was still wary enough of Antonio not to get right into it again, talking to him and all, but it seemed like the Spaniard had no problem with that. If he felt weird talking to Lovino again after all that drama and bullshit, he sure as fuck didn't show it.

Even if Lovino's replies were short or curt, Antonio always tried to keep the conversation going. And, fuck, again, the _guilt_— because Lovino didn't _mean _to be like this, but he honestly couldn't help it. The coldness was still there, and it wasn't going to thaw so easily. And yet Lovino just couldn't stop _thinking _about it. Or overthinking about it, rather.

Upon glancing up from his phone, he's surprised to find that the room is nearly full with his fellow peers. He can see a few of the PA Department's professors up front, talking to someone he's never seen before. Must be the speaker; a petite blonde whose frosty blue eyes shone in the spotlight.

When one of the professors tell the students to settle down, Lovino tucks his phone back into his pocket and crosses his arms over his chest. He felt a bit… out of place, not having any of his friends around. But he knew he would get used to being alone again soon— he always did, anyways.

* * *

"You have to tell him," Arthur says to his older brother, for what was literally the umpteenth time. His disappointment was evident in his features, his tone. Liam and Colin knew absolute fuck all about Lovino, so they haven't given a single bollock to bring it up. But it _did _matter to Arthur— well, not necessarily _matter_, but he felt it was only the right thing to do to bring it up. Especially since he's become rather good acquaintances with the Italian.

"It's not important," Allistor dismisses right off the bat, his forest green eyes narrowed a fraction as he scrutinised Arthur's face. "'E doesn't need ta know."

"Aye, that's what _you _think, but he _does_. You care about him, don't you? You're in a bleeding relationship with him, for God's sake. _He needs to know_. Don't you think it concerns him too?"

Allistor glances away, furrowing his brows in thought. He ensconces himself further into the crimson leather chair in their family's study and remains quiet for a moment, two moments. His eyes dart toward his laptop's screen, a PDF copy of his play's manuscript staring back at him.

Just when Arthur's about to admonish him further, the redhead speaks. "Ah'll speak ta 'im about it. Next time Ah see 'im. Yeh'r right, 'e needs ta know."

The blond nods in response, relatively satisfied with this. "Good. You aren't still… you know… are you?"

"No, Ah'm no'," Allistor says, a bit more quieter this time. "Now sod off, yeah? Ah'm busy."

But even after Arthur left (though not without throwing in an insult of his own), the redhead couldn't focus on whatever he was doing, going through the script again and all. Making last minute revisions. No, he had a lot to think about after that, especially about where his relationship with Lov would be heading. That's _one _issue. But at least Lov's _finally _stopped talking to that whatshisface, Antonio, was it? Yeah. At least that prick was out of the picture.

Fuck if Allistor showed it, but he grew positively _possessive _over Lovino whenever he saw Antonio even just standing near him. It wasn't obvious to the redhead at first, or even the few several times after that…

But he wasn't _daft_.

He caught on, eventually.

The way Antonio looked at Lovino _changed_. And even with his eyes closed, Allistor could tell what the Spaniard wanted from _his _boyfriend was something… something _more _than just simple friendship or camaraderie, or whatever label Antonio tried to slap on it and pass it off as. And if Antonio was trying to hide it, then he was _absolute shite _at it.

Maybe— just _maybe_, if the brunette didn't ogle at his boyfriend like some moony-eyed gobshite in _broad daylight _(dear God!), right in front of Allistor, he wouldn't have found out as quickly— but that's not to say he wouldn't have found out at all.

Lovino sure as _hell _didn't know. But Allistor could just _tell _that the Spaniard would have fucked him if the Italian gave him even sliver of a chance to. Which is why, _obviously_, Allistor had grown to dislike Antonio. All those rumours running rampant around campus about the Spaniard did absolutely naught to quell his anger either. In fact, it served to completely dispel any doubts Allistor may have had about the man.

Obviously, the Spaniard doesn't know how to respect relationships; be it the relationships of others, or even his own.

The Italian didn't deserve to be reduced to some sort of _conquest_. No, he was so much more than that. And if there ever came a time he and Lov wouldn't be together anymore, he knew that the Italian could do _so_, _so _much better. He deserved the best.

* * *

_"So let me get this straight," _Gilbert says, utter disbelief and disappointment clearly evident in his tone. _"You're talking to him again?!"_

"Ahaha… Well… It's complicated?"

Antonio didn't _mean _to spill details about him being on speaking terms with Lovi again— but he couldn't help it! He may have gotten overexcited talking to Lovino earlier, so when the Spaniard Skyped later in the day with Francis and Gilbert, before he could even restrain himself, he _may _have accidentally mentioned talking to Lovino earlier.

The brunette couldn't help but smile sheepishly as he listened to his friends' collective groans of disapproval.

Francis scrutinised him carefully, staring at the screen instead of the camera. _"What in the world are you trying to do, Antoine? Lovino is already in a relationship. You know that."_

Antonio narrowed his eyes, taking offence to what came across to him as an accusation. "It's not like I'm _flirting _with him or anything! We're just _friends_, alright—"

_"Yeah, but what _kind _of friends?" _Gilbert interjects, which goes ignored.

"Plus, when Alfred and Arthur were still together, that didn't stop you from hounding on Arthur everyday!"

_"Excusez moi? I've been friends with Arthur even way before he and Alfred even met!"_

_"Hey, hey! That's a low blow, Tone! I know you probably don't mean it, but it's a low blow!" _Gilbert says again, more louder this time. _"Jesus Christ, since when did this even fucking happen?"_

"I don't know," Antonio says, cheeks red hot with shame and guilt, his emerald eyes downcast. "It's been a few days now, I guess. But I _swear_, it's not like I'm going to try and _steal _Lovino away from Allistor or anything—" Maybe mainly because he knew that it wouldn't work if he actually tried. "We're just… talking, alright? There's nothing wrong with that! And, _Díos_, I'm sorry, Francis… You know I didn't mean that."

He looks up at the screen and he sees Francis leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest with an unreadable expression on his face. Gilbert, however, is leaning forward head cradled in one of his hands as he rested his elbow on his desk. All three of them are quiet for almost a minute before Francis speaks up.

_"It's alright, Antonio," _he says, and Antonio lets out a breath he hadn't even realised he's been holding in. _"But I just want to know why— and I'm sure Gilbert wants to know this too: Why are you doing this, Toni? You do _realise _that talking to him will only hurt you more, right?"_

Antonio gives a non-committal shrug. "I know I messed up with Lovino. Okay? And what I did was wrong, and super fucked up, and Lovino didn't deserve _any _of that. Hell, not even Quentin, probably. I just… wanted to make things right again, I guess. I wanted things to go back to the way they were."

Like, even though he knew that Lovino would never feel the same way, he didn't want to cut the Italian out of his life entirely. Been there, done that— and he never wanted to go through that _again_. It'd hurt Antonio even more if they weren't on speaking terms anymore, so as much as possible, he would try, and piece together what he'd ruined.

"Look. I promised Lovi I wouldn't tell you guys about this, or anyone _else _for that matter. That means Allistor included, okay? So please, _please_ don't tell him, don't tell Lovi I talked to you about this. Alright? I don't want to fuck this up again, so please..!"

_"Alright, alright," _Gilbert groans out, rolling his eyes.

Antonio looks at him seriously. "You have to promise me, Gil. You too, Franny."

Francis knits his brows together in bemusement. _"Oui, fine, I promise."_

"No, wait, we have to do a pinky swear."

_"What?!" _Gilbert burst out cackling. _"Gott, how the hell do you expect us to do that?" _

"Cyber pinky swear," Antonio rephrases, his expression determined as he raises his pinky up to the camera. It momentarily loses focus before readjusting itself to his pinky finger.

Francis chuckles, "_Antonio, this is ridiculous!"_

"No, it isn't!" The Spaniard exclaims, though he's grinning too. "Ah, come on! The both of you! Pinky swear, alright?"

Gilbert stares at the screen like Antonio's sprouted two heads, but he ends up raising his pinky up to the camera anyway. Francis does the same.

"Alright, now promise me you won't tell _anybody _I told you about this. Especially not Allistor or Lovino."

_"I promise," _his two best friends say in unison, and Antonio feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

* * *

After the seminar, given by a Broadway actress turned Grammy-winning songstress who had discussed the importance of performing art in this modern-day society, the students had a light supper in the hotel's restaurant before they all gathered in the lobby for one of the things Lovino's been looking forward to in the first place.

They were going to immerse themselves in different forms of art around the city. Sucks that it's winter though, so they won't be able to see any street performers. For some areas quite a distance away, they would first take the tour bus to cover most of the distance, then go on from there by foot.

First they went to this small playhouse located downtown, where there were many vendors in stalls along the sidewalk. The small theatre was located beside a Chinese restaurant, and there was a crowd of people waiting in front of the building. The students of EHU followed suit, waiting in a separate group while the professors did a quick headcount.

After waiting in the cold for a few minutes, they were eventually ushered in through the double doors, the lobby or reception area dimly lit and smelling faintly of incense sticks. It was invitingly warm inside, for which Lovino was grateful.

They followed the crowd through a doorway covered with a black curtain. Yellow light streamed in through the way leading up to what seemed like rows of seats. Lovino soon realised the area in front of it was a stage, and quickly got a seat around the fourth row. It was still somewhat awkward being alone, since he's long grown used to having company, but he tried to pay the feeling no heed.

Within twenty more minutes, the lights dimmed and the room grew hushed. A spotlight focussed on the stage, which was still empty. Quickly, the room grew hushed, and music started to play. Coming from both sides of the curtains, several performers wearing painted porcelain masks and elaborate makeup, and gowns of colourful silk, began to dance, before the curtain itself gave way to the background of a small village. The design of the masks varied from person to person, and they all had a specific role to play, it seemed. It was a performance originating from China, and though it took him several minutes, he finally got the gist of what the Peking opera was about.

* * *

It was around nine in the evening when Tino popped back inside their hotel room. Lovino was lying on his bed, having Facetimed with Allistor when he got back to the hotel a little past eight PM.

"Hey, Lovino!" Tino chirped, flopping down on the bed opposite him. "Me and a bunch of other people are going out, you want to come with?"

Lovino sits up slightly, looking at the Finn with curiosity. "We're allowed to go out? Wait, where are you even going?"

"To this bar a few blocks away. Just for some good vibes and a few drinks! My friend Oliver has an ID, so he'll get the drinks for us! Sounds fun, right?"

"I don't see why not," the Italian concurs, throwing his legs over the edge of his bed as he glanced around and looked for his shoes. "Just a sec, I'll grab my wallet and put some shoes on."

"Sure, sure!"

Why not, right? Sounds like it could be fun. Sure, not as fun since his friends weren't around, but still. Lovino slipped into his shoes, grabbing his coat from the couch and making sure he had his wallet on him. He padded back to his bed before taking his phone off its charger port, grinning at Tino. "Let's go."

As they walked down the hallway, Lovino made sure to text Allistor. Not like he needed the Scotman's _approval _to go out or anything, but it was just out of decency to let your significant other know where you were going, right? Speaking of approval, he really should have Lars hook him up with a fake ID. He wasn't sure if he could go on like this for, what, three more years?

Lovino and Tino met up with other vaguely familiar faces, and he was introduced to each and every one of them. After waiting for a few more people, they finally stepped out of the building.

A gust of cold air breezed by and Lovino shivered. "Fuck, it's cold."

Tino, wearing what Lovino would deem a light jacket suitable for fucking _spring_, glanced around. "Ah. It is? I didn't notice!"

* * *

The bar, MOONSHINE, was conveniently wedged between a laundromat and a 24/7 convenience store-slash-deli. It took up the first floor of a four-storey building, made out of pure red brick. Despite its small size, the bar itself was teeming with people around their age or so, with groups of people smoking outside. Tino pushed through the crowd and Lovino followed suit, thankful for the warmth that quickly enveloped him. There was live music, a stage tucked to one side.

The students from EHU found seats scattered around the bar, and Lovino managed to snag a seat by an empty table while Tino sat adjacent to him. Oliver, who was Allistor's friend if Lovino recalled correctly, soon came along and sat across the Italian. There was a guy onstage with an acoustic guitar, wailing out the chorus to, of _all _songs, Wonderwall by Oasis. Not that Lovino disliked the song, but… y'know. It's fucking Wonderwall.

_Anyways, here's Wonderwall, _Lovino automatically thought to himself. Next best thing would've probably been Iris by The Goo-Goo Dolls. Briefly, Lovino thought of his acoustic guitar probably catching dust at home.

There were good vibes all around, with people singing along to the music. A waitress came over and took down their orders. Tino ordered vodka straight up, room-temperature (what the fuck? Who _does _that?), Oliver ordered a beer, while Lovino settled for Fireball whiskey on the rocks.

"You're going to drink vodka at room-temperature," Lovino says, incredulous, "How? _Why_? Like, I get if it's straight up, I do that too, but, like, it's usually cold when I drink it."

Tino smiled sheepishly. "I'm just used to drinking vodka that way, I guess?"

Lovino nods, turning his attention to the stage again. The guy who sang onstage earlier stepped down, then _this _other dude went up on stage, and instantly there were cheers all around the room. Oliver and Tino cheered too.

"Alright, alright! Now, ladies and gentlemen, and all those in between— you know what it is! A Monday—"

This time, a series of boos. Lovino boos too, because he gets that Mondays fucking suck unless you're Beyoncé or maybe even one of the Kardashians on their really good days. Ugh, yeah, his friends made him watch _Keeping Up With The Kardashians _with them every now and then whenever they randomly dropped by his apartment. Don't even mention it.

"I know, Mondays are… pretty rough on all of us. But hey, every cloud has a silver lining, 'cause today is our poetry slam competition! Last week's theme was 'repose', but _this _week's theme is 'desire'. Oooh!"

The waitress comes back and serves them their drinks. Lovino plucks his glass up and takes a small sip. Oliver reaches over and taps Lovino's arm. "Hey, I'm Oliver. Allistor's friend?"

Lovino glances at him for a sec before shaking his hand. "Hey, yeah. I know. Guess we haven't formally met yet. I'm Lovino."

Oliver grins at him. "Of course. With how much Allistor talks about you, you'd think we'd have met each other sooner."

"You wrote the script for the play, right?"

"Well, yes, I _am _the playwright. I hear you're taking Creative Writing. That's great!"

Lovino laughs, "Thanks. I'm kinda new to all this, so I've been trying to…" He trails off, staring at his drink. "I don't know. Just, like, expose myself to all these different types of writing and different types of literature and just try and find myself in that spectrum. I've read some parts of your script by the way, it's really great."

"Thanks, thanks! And, you know, your writing really will change with the decisions or experiences in life that shape you. Just like people; people change. So will how you write or your perception of things."

"Like the interpretation of the work through the eyes of the author."

"Yeah, it's not the only way though. There are a lot of theories you'll learn soon, but basically, a lot of writers out there put so much of themselves in what they write—" Oliver suddenly stops and redirects his attention to the front, pointing at the stage. "Look! The poetry slam's starting!"

The Italian turns to look at the stage, and indeed someone goes up on stage. A woman this time, with dark skin and a shock of magenta ringlet curls.

She began to recite verses about lust, sexual desire, and even though it was something that most people considered taboo to even talk about with others, it didn't sound lewd in any way that may have made Lovino feel uncomfortable. Like, after all, sex was… fuck, it was a natural thing. Humans literally have to do it to survive.

And even though the way he had, ah, sex wasn't going to lead to any pregnancies anytime soon— or _ever_, for that matter— it was still a thing people _do_. Even if it was sort of strange to think about his friends possibly having an active sex life (like he does, to be honest). He knew that Feliks was probably getting it on with Toris on the daily— the blond wouldn't stop yakking about his sexual misadventures during lunch. Liz and Roderich were probably at that point in their relationship already, but as _much _as she pried into Feliks and Toris' relationship and his own, she doesn't really mention anything about her sex life. Every now and then, _Michelle_ of all people, would have 'juicy' hookups and tell all in her favourite dessert café. Bella, however, had recently stopped seeing that Bulgarian dude, so she's been single for a while now.

As for him and Allistor… Well, the redhead did 'sleep over' quite often, sleepovers in which it didn't involve very much actual sleeping. But it wasn't _everyday _or anything like that, 'cause they had their own things to do. Allistor invested so much of himself into the play, trying to make it as grand and surreal as Oliver's script made the story seem, trying to bring the story itself to life, while Lovino himself was trying to _learn _more about writing through writing itself, mainly, and trying to find his niche in general.

It was when the room burst into a round of applause did Lovino snap out of his thoughts. He felt a twinge of regret not paying attention, so he swore to pay better attention this time around. She had spoken so beautifully too.

For the rest of the night, Lovino found himself entranced by the speakers who wore their hearts on their sleeves and spoke with so much _passion_ and _confidence_ and seemingly without fear. He couldn't help but wonder how they did that. Was it something innate or was it something learnt? Regardless, he couldn't help but want to be like them. He wanted to more _open _with the things he created, the things he wrote. It probably wasn't going to happen soon, let alone overnight, but all in due time, right?

* * *

By the end of the night, the winner was announced. It was the first speaker. Now more than ever did Lovino wish he'd known the rest of what she said.

* * *

Lovino stumbled into the hotel room around two in the morning, followed by a seemingly perfectly sober Tino. The Finn closed the door behind them, laughing in amusement as Lovino crashed right onto his bed. Within mere minutes, the brunette had unceremoniously passed out.

* * *

The next morning was _hell_. As much as Lovino wanted to sleep in 'til _at least _noon, he was on a schedule. By eight he had to drag his ass the fuck out of bed and hit the shower so he wouldn't miss the intercontinental breakfast buffet downstairs. He and Tino ate breakfast together, along with Oliver and a bunch of other people from last night. He sleepily blinked at his phone, going through his Facebook, Instagram and his texts. He sent Allistor a quick 'good morning' text before updating Feli on how his trip has been going.

Feli picked _Nonno _up from the airport yesterday, and now they were staying in their house (not the apartment, mind you) while waiting for Lovino to come back. And, hopefully, they'll probably go back to Italy for Christmas with their relatives in Tuscany. If not, they'd just stay here in Spokane. That was cool too.

* * *

_Ding!_

Lovino glanced down, automatically reaching for his phone. He sees it's a text from Allistor and unlocks his phone.

**Allistor: Good morning too luv xx I miss you :-)**

The Italian couldn't help but smile, quickly typing in a reply, hazel eyes darting up for a quick moment just to make sure the speaker up front wouldn't notice him using his phone or anything. He made sure to switch it to silent mode just to be sure.

**Lovino: I miss you too. Your parents back yet?**

_Bzzzt!_

**Allistor: Not yet :-( mum and da won't be here 'til Saturday**

_Bzzzt!_

**Allistor: I have an idea though ;-)**

Lovino bit his bottom lip, trying to keep his smile from widening into a full-out grin. He could feel his cheeks reddening already. That winky face was _not _to be taken lightly.

**Lovino: Oh yeah? What kind of idea?**

He waited with bated breath as Allistor typed in a reply. Since it seemed his conversation with the redhead would be heading into a… _different _direction, he dimmed the lighting on his phone so no one else could read his messages easily.

_Bzzzt!_

**Allistor: Your flight is on Wednesday right? How about I meet you at your place when you get back? I can think of more than a few ways we can spend the night together. How bout it luv? ;-)**

Even though Lovino was all for it, this could be drawn out two ways. One, he could accept Allistor's, ah, _proposition_ right then and there. Or two, he could draw it out a bit. Make the Scot work for it. Might as well, right? It's not like he was doing anything better, other than listening to someone up front speaking to the students taking up acting.

**Lovino: Hmm I'm not sure tbh  
****Lovino: For sure I'll be tired as fuck by then.  
****Lovino: But if you can convince me and make it worth it  
****Lovino: I might take it into consideration?**

Instantly it was marked as 'read' and Lovino could only imagine what Allistor's face was like as he read those messages. It took the Scotsman a bit longer, but nonetheless he replied.

**Allistor: Go somewhere private and I'll show you ;-)**

…What.

That—

Lovino did not expect that. If his face wasn't red then, it was definitely crimson _now_. He glanced around, staring at the exit. The Italian faked a cough and immediately got up, eyes downcast as he made his way out of the conference room. And now he was faced with yet two other choices. He could go to the men's room, or he could go up to his hotel room, and he _knows _Tino won't be there since the Finn was actually listening to the speaker. Just as he passed the men's room, he decided to go all the way up to his hotel room. He made sure the chain over the door was in place, just in case Tino decided to go up or anything (which he seriously doubted), and flopped down on his bed.

**Lovino: I'm waiting.**

Allistor's face instantly came up on his phone, and Lovino was thankful he decided to go up to his room instead. He accepted the FaceTime video call and just seeing Allistor's face made his heart skip a beat.

"Hey," the Italian said, using his arm to cover half of his face.

_"Hey," _Allistor said back.

For a few seconds there, they didn't do or say anything; they only stared at each other, silly grins on their faces. Lovino was the first one to snap out of it, clearing his throat.

"So about that…" he drawled, glancing away.

_"Yeah?"_

Lovino may have not been looking at Allistor, but he knew that stupid smug tone in his voice all too well—! "S-Shut up! You know what I'm talking about, dammit!"

A full-bodied laugh escapes Allistor's lips, and Lovino can't help but try and laugh off his embarrassment as well. "Convince me already! I snuck off alright? I don't want to get in trouble so make it quick already,"

_"Well, for starters, why don't yeh look at th' screen?" _Allistor says, voice taunting.

"…Right." It takes a second, but Lovino gets himself together and turns to look at his phone's screen again. He blinks in surprise, completely silent.

…Well. This was slightly unexpected.

"What's _that_?" Lovino asks, immediately feeling stupid for doing so. And was that actually _disappointment _in his fucking tone? Wooow. _Nice._

_"Aww, yeh don't like it, luv?" _Allistor asks, moving the small wrapped present away from the screen so he could pout at him. Ah, fuck.

"You got me a present." No fucking shit, Lovino.

_"Yes, Ah did! Ah went gift shopping yesterday." _Then Allistor's expression turns coy. _"Why, were yeh, ah, expecting _somethin' else_, luv?"_

"No I wasn't, you fucking perv!" Lovino argues, which is a _blatant lie _anyway, but like _hell _he'd ever admit to the truth. And _another thing_. There was like this 'oh shit' feeling dawning on him as he slowly realised, or _remembered_, rather, that he needed to go Christmas shopping. Not just for Allistor, but for Feli, _Nonno_, and probably his friends too, if not just Bella. Fuck. Fuck!

And he had _no idea _what to get yet! Or _maybe _he did, but still, he needed to plan things out first! He was in _New York _of all places! He'd need to ring up boutiques beforehand just to make sure they had what he wanted to get. Then they could prepare it in advance, wrap it up for him probably. Yeah. He'd have to get that done today. Maybe when they're on the tour bus, he could call them on the way.

_"…Lov, are yeh alright?" _Lovino is brought out of his thoughts and he looks at Allistor's mildly perplexed face. He blinks once, twice, trying to find the words to say.

"Y-Yeah, I am. Sorry, I just realised I need to look for gifts too."

_"Ah. No pressure, luv. Ah'm sure yeh'll make it in time!"_

Lovino chuckles, almost in disbelief. "I… I think I have to."

_"So," _Allistor continues. He raises the gift back up to the camera again. _"How 'bout it, Lov?"_

"You think you can win me over with gifts?"

Allistor hums in mock contemplation. _"Probably not. But Ah can make our night worthwhile."_

"Prove it to me when I see you then." They were both smirking now.

_"Ah can do tha'. Ah can prove it to yeh all night."_

The promises of what was to come hung heavy in the air, leaving the Italian feeling more than a bit turned on. "You know, I have a few minutes more before I have to go down again… Think you can make my time worthwhile _now_?"

_"Ah'm sorry, was tha' a challenge?"_

"Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn't."

_"Why don't we start by doing what Ah say, exactly as Ah say it?"_

* * *

By the time Lovino headed down to the conference room again, the seminar had just about ended, everyone in the room clapping their hands in applause. A professor had given Lovino a curious look, which he pointedly ignored as he ran a hand through his sweaty hair.

Push came to shove, he could pretend he had a runny stomach, or that he was lactose intolerant or some shit to explain his absence. Anything was better than admitting to sneaking off in the middle of a seminar to have phone sex with your _incredibly _hot boyfriend.

Embarrassingly enough, his absence doesn't go amiss by his peers. As they're all boarding the tour bus, Tino sits beside him and asks where Lovino went off to all of a sudden. Lovino coughed into his hand to hide his reddening cheeks and muttered a 'had to go to the toilet'. Tino nodded in understanding and questioned no further.

That day, they went around to different significant cultural landmarks around New York that was especially relevant to performing arts. Each minor stop would last about thirty minutes before they would go onto the next one. Major ones would take more time, of course.

They visited Al Hirschfeld Theatre, making sure to have a good look-see at the iconic drawings, then the Belasco theatre. They went to the Lyceum Theatre next, and to other significant theatres. They were all stunning, and no amount of filters or editing Instagram photos could really capture the beauty of the place, as it was and is.

It was much more like an actual tour now, since they had a theatrical history tour guide onboard the bus who also guided them when they were walking on foot. Though Lovino had to admit, most of his attention was elsewhere as he started ringing up different stores and placing orders for Christmas gifts so all he'd have to do was pay for them when he got there.

Shitty luck or shitty timing, he wasn't sure, but sometimes what he had in mind was already unavailable for purchase or out of stock, so he'd have to find a substitute that was _just _as good, if not a variation of the same thing.

The crème de la crème of his day surprisingly wasn't his 'chat' with Allistor earlier, however, but instead was the show he watched later that night, in the Imperial Theatre. He literally had _no idea _why he didn't know about this beforehand. _Holy shit_.

Majority of the students from EHU were booked really good seats up in the front rows, Lovino included. He could hear the music thumping in his chest, and he could see every single detail of what was going on onstage, from the intricate details of the actors' clothes, to the way beads of sweat forming at their temples did little to ruin their stage makeup, heavily applied.

Holy shit.

Lovino literally could not stop himself from freaking out. _Seriously_.

Nobody told him they were going to watch freaking _Les Misérables_! How the fuck did he not get the memo? But, _Dio_, it was fucking _amazing_. **_Phenomenal._**

Lovino was downright _shook_. After the show, in the tour bus on the way back to the hotel, he called Allistor and told him all about it. It was nice having someone you could just talk about these things to.

* * *

Before Lovino knew it, it was already the last day of their trip to New York. Their flight would be later in the evening, so they'd be checking out in the morning after breakfast, leaving their things aboard the bus, before they'd have the rest of the day to wander around the city. They could do some exploring on their own, or they could wander off to the shops; anything, really, just as long as they were in their designated meeting place by 3PM so they could go straight to the airport.

It could only mean one thing for the Italian. It was time to go Christmas gift shopping. As pathetic as it was, he felt like a man on a mission— why wouldn't he? The places he had to go to today were scattered around the city.

After having a quick breakfast and leaving his stuff in the bus, Lovino wasted no time in hollering a cab over— because _like hell _he'd risk getting himself lost trying to commute from place to place. As inviting as it was to wander around with no clear idea of where you wanted to be in mind, now was not one of those times. He didn't have time to waste.

First he went to Pandora at Times Square, where he picked out a classic clasp bracelet, as well as a few charms so it wouldn't look so bare, making sure to pick a limited edition one out as well. Now that one was for Bella. He would've picked out a ring, but he didn't know her ring size.

He was thinking maybe he could just get Chelle a gift card from Victoria's Secret, but like _hell _he was getting one for Liz. She'd probably throttle him. That was a huge _hell nah_, so he decided to play it safe and get her a gift card from, like, fucking ThinkGeek or something. Shopping for Feliks though… Well, he didn't really know. He knew the Pole was really into makeup and shit, so he opted to just get Feliks a gift card from Sephora.

Fuck yeah, gift cards. For when you don't know _what_ to get them but know_ where_ to get it from.

For family and Allistor though, he was a bit more specific. By 'a bit', he meant a _lot _more specific. So he went to Hermès on Madison Ave. to pick up his gift for _Nonno_, which he already requested to have gift-wrapped. What could he say? Money talks.

Then he took another cab to the VASARI Classic Artists' Oil Colors showroom on West 27th Street to buy oil paints for Feli. He was certain the younger Italian hadn't tried paints from that brand before, so Lovino thought that his brother might like to try them. When he got back to Spokane, he'd buy extra canvasses so he could paint things if he wanted to over winter break.

Last but not the least, Allistor's gift. The Italian had spent a fair amount of time thinking about what to get for his boyfriend. He wasn't sure what people usually got for their boyfriends, especially in new relationships, but he wanted something the Scot could use everyday. Something each time he saw, would make him think of Lovino. Eventually he settled on getting the redhead a watch. He made sure it was high-quality, something that could be paired with a casual getup or something that wouldn't look out of place if Allistor dressed up.

By the time Lovino had finished his shopping spree, thankfully avoiding getting his credit card rejected or maxing it out, he was sweating, but at the same time, his hands and feet were fucking numb from power walking in the cold. Worth it, though. It was so worth it.

He could barely wait for tonight.

* * *

Lovino couldn't help but fidget impatiently in the back of the taxi going back to his apartment. He managed to keep his temper from bubbling up to the surface, but the trip had left him more than tired and irritable. All he wanted to do was see Allistor again.

As the taxi pulled up in front of his apartment building, he could see Allistor's car parked ahead, its engine still running. Lovino inhaled sharply, heart skipping a beat, as he paid for his cab fare. The redhead exited the car, bowling Lovino over with how drop dead _perfect _he looked wearing his favourite white button-down shirt.

Lovino exited the cab and Allistor helped him with his things. Once the taxi made a U-turn and drove off, Allistor captured Lovino in a tight embrace. The Italian hugged him back, trying to take in everything about the Scotsman in that moment, from his muscles to his scent to the feel of the redhead's body pressed up against his.

Even though it was only a few days since they've seen each other last, it literally felt like _eons _to the Italian. Like, sure, the trip was fun and all, but was it so wrong Lovino would have rather spent his time with his boyfriend, when the both of them were free of any obligations and while Feli was away?

They stay there, hugging in the cold for about a minute, before Allistor is the first one to pull away, tenderly stroking Lovino's cheek with his thumb. He leans down and captures the Italian's lips with a deep kiss, his other hand drifting down to the small of Lovino's back. Lovino returns the kiss, lips automatically parting as a tongue teasingly darted into his mouth, running itself along his bottom lip.

When they break off the kiss, their lips make a small audible _smack!_

"Hi Lov," Allistor greets, beaming down at the impossibly handsome brunette right in front of him. _This boy will be the death of me someday._

"Hey," says Lovino softly, brushing the small flakes of snow out of Allistor's scarlet hair.

"Let's get yer things up first, hm?"

Lovino takes a deep, shaky breath before nodding in assent. Together, they make quick work of bringing the luggages up, along with the many paper bags Lovino had with him for his carry-on luggage. As Allistor rolled the suitcase half-way to the living room, Lovino left the paper bags right by the coffee table. He switched the lights on, dimmed, and made sure the heater was on.

Allistor was in the kitchen, searching for two wine glasses. Lovino shrugged his heavy coat off and threw it over the arm chair, pulling his scarf off as well as he made his way to the kitchen.

The redhead brought a bottle of red wine with him along with a small duffel bag for an overnight stay.

"How was yer trip, luv?" Allistor asks, now going through some drawers to find a corkscrew.

Lovino leaned against one of the counters, just watching the Scot move around his kitchen like it was his own. "It was okay, I guess. Made a new friend; his name is Tino. You know him? He's friends with Oliver too."

Allistor pauses, humming in thought. "Hmm, Ah _think _Ah know who yeh're talking about. But Ah'm not too sure."

Lovino snorts. "Aren't you practically friends with everyone?"

The redhead smiles at him, a twinkle of amusement in those forest green eyes. "Apparently not."

As he pours a glass of wine for the both of them, Lovino saunters over to the fridge and opens it. "Hey, are you hungry?"

Allistor's smile turns cheeky. "Depends on what yeh're making."

Lovino looks at him in mock incredulousness, crossing his arms over his chest. "Oh, I see."

"Or would yeh rather Ah cook?" Allistor playfully taunted, winking at him.

Lovino suddenly glanced away, his face flushing a deeper shade of red. "Fuck it, maybe I can whip up a quick carbonara pasta."

"Or maybe we can order pizza and snog on th' couch while we wait?" Allistor suggests, raising a glass up for Lovino to take.

They clink their glasses together before taking a sip. After a moment, Lovino set his glass down, eyes downcast and his cheeks impossibly red. "Y-Yeah, I'm down with that."

Allistor smiles and they make their way to the living room, taking their wine with them. Lovino sets the bottle of wine down on the coffee table, pouring himself another glass and leaning into the couch cushions as Allistor stood near the TV, on the phone ordering pizza from La Cucina Italiano.

Lovino reaches for the remote and turns the TV on, flipping through different channels before settling for one with a roaring fireplace (feat. accompanying sound effects). Once Allistor is done ordering, he stares at the TV, a grin on his face. He turns to look at his inamorato, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. "Oh, wha's this? Trying to set the mood are we, Lov?"

"Not yet," Lovino says, fiddling with the Bluetooth setting on the JBL sound system on either side of the TV. He goes through the songs on his phone and presses play. _Careless Whisper _comes on, and the both of them burst out laughing.

Allistor strides over to the Italian and sits on his lap for once, peppering his face with kisses. Lovino groans into their kiss, the redhead straddling his waist. Lovino started to undo the buttons on Allistor's shirt, running his open palms over the expanse of the Scot's pale skin. Allistor moved his head down, lips licking a trail down from Lovino's mouth, all the way to the nape of the Italian's neck.

The redhead broke the kiss off for a moment so he could pull the Italian's dark grey sweater off, tossing it somewhere behind him. Within seconds they're pressed up against each other again, Allistor pinning Lovino down on the couch, his hands wandering south as he pressed a palm between Lovino's legs. The Italian groaned, jerking his hips forward into the Scot's hand, only to have the latter move his hand away.

"Fucking tease," Lovino murmurs, his fingers tracing marks around Allistor's back.

"Yer fault, Ah don't want ta 'ave a shag to fucking _George Michael_." Allistor murmurs right back, the seriousness in his tone making Lovino snort.

"Yeah, yeah, let me just find my phone," he grumbles, reaching for somewhere in between the couch cushions. He retrieves his phone and goes through the song playlist, and _Love In This Club _by Usher starts playing. "Better?"

"Definitely," Allistor says breathlessly, capturing Lovino's lips in a heated kiss.

Lovino sits up before straddling Allistor's waist, grinding his hips against the redhead's. Allistor groans, hands gripping Lovino's hips so he could grind back, yearning for more of that friction. The Italian starts kissing along Allistor's collarbone, hands pushing the white button-down off of his shoulders entirely before they trailed down the Scot's stomach once more. Lovino slid off his lap and got on his knees before the Scot, his face flushed as he started to work on undoing Allistor's belt.

"Fuck, yeh're so hot," Allistor groans out, running his hand through Lovino's soft brown hair, thumb grazing against the wayward curl he never quite understood. The Italian's eyes flutter closed and something akin a _whimper _escapes his lips.

What… What was _that_?

Before Allistor could ponder any further on what he did wrong— or _right_, rather— the Italian diverted his attention with his continued ministrations, lifting his hips up so Lovino could pull his jeans and boxer briefs off. Lovino stared at the head of Allistor's cock, leaking a bead of precum, before tonguing the very tip, his eyes fluttering closed. His hand wrapped around the rest of the redhead's length before taking the head into his mouth, bobbing up and down as he worked to loosen his jaw to take more of him in.

Allistor tightened his grip on Lovino's hair— just enough to get a firm grasp, but not enough to hurt him— and guided more of himself into the Italian's hot, wet mouth. A guttural moan left his lips, hips bucking forward once more. Lovino gripped Allistor's side tightly, eyes narrowed in warning lest he choke.

Just as Lovino was starting to get really into it, the tip of Allistor's length occasionally brushing against the back of Lovino's throat, the sound of the doorbell ringing had taken them by surprise. The Italian stiffened, panic written all over his face. He pulls away, his pretty lips swollen and glistening under the dim lighting. "Shit. Is that the pizza guy?!" He harshly whispers, his own voice hoarse.

Allistor could only stare, disoriented himself.

"I'll get it," Lovino says, then a bit louder, "Just a second!"

He stands up, striding over to his backpack on the arm chair adjacent to them, fishing his wallet out.

"No, Lov, Ah'll pay," Allistor says, and when Lovino looks at him he's absolutely _mortified _to find that Allistor's dick is still out and very much erect. He grabs a throw pillow, tossing it over to the redhead.

"Cover your dick, dammit!" Lovino hisses, trying to keep his voice at a minimum. He licks his lips, tasting Allistor on his tongue, and hopes that he doesn't look _completely _dishevelled when he opens the door.

"Hey, pizza delivery for a Mr. Kirkland?" A kid around the age of sixteen drawls, raising up two pizzas.

"Yeah, yeah," Lovino murmurs, paying for the pizzas plus a tip so he could somehow justify closing the door in the kid's face. He briskly made his way back to the living room and set the pizzas down on the dining table, the smell of pizzas wafting around and somehow, somewhat dispelling the heady mood earlier.

Lovino couldn't believe it. He just got cockblocked by pizza.

"Hey, Lov? Yeh alright?" Allistor asks, wrapping his arms around Lovino's waist and pulling him closer to himself.

"Is it just me or did that, like, completely ruin the mood?" Lovino says, hint of irascibility in his tone.

"Shh, luv, just relax," Allistor coaxes, moving the throw pillow on his crotch aside and pulling the Italian onto his lap, their lips meeting with a kiss. He chuckles, a hand running down Lovino's backside through the fabric of his jeans. "How about we get yeh out of these jeans, hmm?"

Lovino nods in acquiesce, Allistor making quick work of the jeans and pulling them down along with his boxers first down to his knees, then off his legs entirely. Sure enough, Lovino was already more than half-hard.

"There we go," the redhead said, an encouraging lilt to his tone. Lovino flushed crimson once more, a soft moan leaving his lips as Allistor pumped his length once, twice. The redhead reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled a small tube of lube out, snapping the cap open and pouring a generous amount on his hand.

He then set about preparing the Italian straddling his lap, starting with one finger before moving all the way up to three, spreading and stretching to make sure Lov would be comfortable. Then he poured a bit more lube onto his hand and pumped it onto his own length, a groan leaving his lips at the contact. Lovino raised himself up and positioned himself over Allistor's length before sinking down, hissing at the initial sting. It hurt but it _hurt so good_.

Allistor peppered kisses all over Lovino's chest in order to distract him from the pain, fingers ghosting down the small of the Italian's back before ducking in-between his thighs. Their lips met in a passionate kiss as Allistor was buried in him right to the very hilt. Then began the redhead's series of thrusts, meeting Lovino's hips as he rode him.

It was as if only their moans could be heard, and the sound of wet skin slapping against skin. The playlist Lovino selected had been drowned out over their heated osculations, their thrusts growing more and more perfervid and frantic— _desperate _for release—

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Lovino gasped out. "Close, I'm so close! I—"

Something incoherent escaped Allistor's lips as Lovino came, his essence splattering all over both their stomachs. The Scot immediately followed suit, groaning Lovino's name out as he came inside of his inamorato.

Lovino's legs were shaking, his own come dribbling down the Italian's soft thighs in rivulets. He'd never seen anything or any_one _more breathtaking.

* * *

"Taste good?" Allistor asks, as Lovino reaches for another slice of pizza. The Italian nods, biting into it.

The redhead glanced around the living room before spotting his bag. "Want ta open yer present?"

"Sure," says Lovino, pouring himself another glassful of wine before getting up too. "I'll get you yours."

Allistor flops down on the couch, a small green box in his hand. Lovino left his unfinished pizza slice back in the corner of the box before retrieving his own gift for Allistor, a box much smaller than the one Allistor had in his hand.

"Merry Christmas luv," Allistor says, kissing Lovino's forehead before giving him his gift.

"Thank you," says Lovino, before giving his gift to Allistor too. "Merry Christmas too, babe. _Ti amo_."

"Mm, Ah love yeh too."

They each unwrap their gifts, Allistor happy to receive the Frederique Constant watch Lovino picked out for him, with a simple white face and a black leather strap, suitable for all occasions (Lovino damn well made sure of that), and the Italian gaping at the classic checkered cashmere scarf Allistor had gotten him from Burberry, running his thumb over the initials '**LRV**' embroidered in one corner.

"Oh, that's not all," Allistor says, a cheeky expression on his face. "Look in the box."

Lovino glanced at him curiously before pulling the scarf out of its box. Something unexpectedly fell back down onto his lap with an audible _clank_. Well. "You kinky fucking bastard."

* * *

The next morning, Lovino woke up in his bed feeling sore all over in what seemed to be the best possible way. When he stirred, the Scotsman followed suit, burying his face into the crook of Lovino's neck before leaning up to kiss his temple.

"Morning, luv," Allistor says, nuzzling the Italian's cheek.

"Mm, _buon giorno_," Lovino replies, yawning. He tugged at the handcuff chaining him to his bedpost. "Will you let me go now?"

Allistor stilled for a moment before chuckling. "Should I?"

"Not kidding, I really need to pee so hurry the fuck up."

"Ah, right." Allistor groaned as he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he tried to locate the key somewhere on Lov's bedside table.

"...Lov?"

"Yeah?"

"Ah fink we may 'ave a problem."

Lovino stiffens. "What kind of problem?"

"Ah can't find th' key—"

"_What?!_" That was most definitely the Italian's outside voice. "What do you mean you can't find the key?!"

"Ah mean Ah don't know where it is! Ah swear it was right there last night—"

"So you mean I'm fucking stuck here?!" Lovino shrieked, downright incredulous. "Are you _sure _it's not there?"

Allistor turned to face him, the small silver key in hand and a mischievous grin on his face. "It is, sorry."

Lovino kicked him. "Oh my God, you asshole!"

The redhead let out a boisterous laugh, and though Lovino was miffed, he found himself laughing as well. Allistor leaned over him and unlocked the handcuff chained to Lovino's wrist, before bringing Lovino's hand up to his lips and kissing it. "It was just a wee prank, luv. Don't be cross with me, alright?"

"Yeah, whatever," Lovino says, carefully getting out of bed on wobbly legs before hobbling over to his en suite. He could only hope he the soreness would wear off soon; he didn't want Feliciano or _Nonno _seeing him limp around the fucking house like this. Shit was embarrassing as fuck.

When he exited his bathroom, he was somewhat surprised to find the bedroom empty. He grabbed a clean pair of boxers and wandered to the kitchen, where Allistor was busying himself with cooking breakfast.

"Ah'm making omelettes, d'yeh want ham in yers too, luv?" Allistor asks, pointedly ignoring Lovino's comment of 'Holy shit, you can_ actually _cook?', as he sprinkled a handful of diced tomatoes into the pan.

"Yeah, sure," Lovino says, taking a seat by the island counter and watching his boyfriend cook. He wasn't sure it was a good idea to cook in the buff, but…

…he wasn't complaining. He ogled at his boyfriend's ass, no shame. Not like Allistor would be able to tell, anyway—

"Yeh're staring! Ah can feel it!"

Fuck.

"No, I wasn't! Get over yourself," Lovino says, his face beet red as he got up from the barstool and went through the cupboards. "Don't really have coffee here since me and Feli usually buy from Starbucks anyway. Want some hot cocoa?"

Allistor winks at him, a boyish smile on his face before he continued cooking the eggs. "Sure, luv."

Lovino stares at the red lines running down Allistor's broad back, gulping. Some were a light brown, almost faded, while the ones from last night were still red, having drawn blood. _He _did that to him.

As Allistor moves the first omelette to a plate, he cracks another two eggs. Lovino snaps out of his daze and prepares two mugs of hot cocoa, adding in a dash of mini marshmallows too, for good measure.

Within minutes, plates are set and breakfast is ready. They sit at the dining table, the two boxes of pizza from last night tucked to the other side. Lovino could really get used to this. Waking up next to Allistor, having breakfast together and all. Maybe they could move in together after Lovino finishes college. That would be nice.

"Ah need ta tell yeh something important, luv," Allistor says, glancing up at him after taking a bite of his omelette.

"Yeah, what is it?" Lovino asks, preoccupied with slicing his omelette into bite-sized forkfuls.

Allistor takes a deep breath, and that's what gets him. Lovino stills, his heart skipping a beat. "What is it?" He reiterates.

"Ah love yeh," the redhead says and Lovino smiles.

"_Ti amo troppo_."

And, almost abruptly, Allistor adds, "After Ah graduate, Ah'm leavin'. Ah'll be continuing me studies in RADA."

"Oh." Lovino says, and he didn't know what to make of it. They'd work something out, probably. "Okay."

The Scotsman didn't pursue the topic any further, so Lovino didn't either.

* * *

A dark green Mustang rolls up in front of the Vargas family home. Allistor peers out the window and stares at the light blue three-story house. "So this is where yeh live," he drawls, noting there were lights already strung up.

"Yeah," Lovino says, grabbing his backpack from the backseat. Then he stills, pauses for a moment. "Want to meet _Nonno_? I think he and Feli are up having breakfast right now."

"Can I?" Allistor asks, his expression lighting up. "Of course Ah want to! Ah'd love to! But Ah'm afraid Ah can't stay for too long though."

"No pressure." Lovino stretches his hand out for Allistor to hold. "You ready?"

The redhead beams at him. "More than ready."

* * *

**Translations:**

**_Díos_**** \- God (Esp.)  
****_Dio _****\- God (It.)  
****_Nonno _****\- grandfather (It.)  
****_excusez moi _****\- excuse me (Fr.)  
****_oui _****\- yes (Fr.)  
****_ti amo/ti amo troppo _****\- I love you/I love you too (It.)  
****_buon giorno _****\- good morning (It.)**

**Happy holidays! Finally we see Lovi and Allistor getting it on. I'm shockingly terrible at writing lemons, so any suggestions or maybe even ****_ideas _****for future lemons, would be of help lololol**

**How have you guys been though? Feel free to leave a review and tell me what you think!**

**~jellydonut16~**

**P.S. Lovi's tumblr URL: pxss-off**


End file.
